They All Lived Story 51: Life Cycles
by LadyWordsmith
Summary: Dec '69-Mar '70. Life for the Elric clan and friends continues apace: new members, new relationships. Ed's grand-kids are growing up fast. Though not every relationship is smooth, and not everyone ages gracefully.
1. Chapter 1

**Dec 1****st****, 1969**

Alphonse wasn't surprised to find Cal leaning against the window sill in the waiting room of the Central hospital. After all, it was Cal who had called at four in the morning and told him and Elicia that Alyse was in labor. Gloria had been dropped next door at Will and Ren's on the way to the hospital.

It was only eleven in the morning, but Cal already looked like he'd lost two or three days of sleep. Of course, after Gloria's birth, Al wasn't surprised his son-in-law looked like he was trying not to hyperventilate.

"Breathe," Al chuckled as he approached. "I seem to remember it helps."

Cal gave him a weak grin. "Very funny."

"So how's she doing?" If they were at the hospital, there must be a reason. Especially after Alyse's delivering Gloria during the holiday in Resembool.

Cal's smile slipped. "She's in a lot of pain. The baby's not in the right position, and they can't turn him yet. Ren said it wasn't something she could do with alchemy and suggested we come on over here, you know, just to be safe."

"Is she here?"

"Yeah, Ren's in with Alyse." Cal glanced down the long hallway.

Having Ren there made Al feel better. Even if this wasn't something that could be easily fixed with alchemy, she knew what she was doing. His daughter was in good hands. "You all right?"

"Not really," Cal replied, fidgeting. "They ordered me out of the room. I'm not even sure what they're doing right now."

"Have you eaten this morning?"

"No."

"Go get something," Al put a hand on Cal's shoulder and gave him a bit of a shove. "You're no good to Alyse if you pass out in the waiting room."

It was a sign of Cal's distraction that he almost stumbled and offered no resistance to Al's light push. "But-"

"I'll be right here in case they come out," Al pointed out. "I'll come get you. Just go down to the cafeteria and get food and drink."

Cal nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Al smiled. "No problem."

Cal turned and headed down the hallway at a quick pace; obviously not intending to be gone longer than necessary. "Back soon."

The sound of a muffled shout left Al just hoping that wasn't Alyse he was hearing.

* * *

><p>A glass of cola, a bagel, and two cigarettes later Cal felt like he might be able to face the delivery room again. He'd bummed both of the latter off another guy with only the remotest twinge of guilt. He was looking forward to being a father again…. But he was never going to be able to handle this whole delivery thing.<p>

Alphonse was sitting in the waiting room, as promised, when Cal got back. "What have I missed?" The words blurted from his mouth, sounding no calmer than he felt.

"Not much," Al assured him. "I haven't been told a thing."

As he spoke, Cal spotted a nurse coming out of the door he knew led to Alyse's room. "I think that's about to change."

"Mr. Fischer," the nurse nodded to Cal. "Your wife wants you."

"How is she?" His mouth went dry at her flat expression.

"If you hurry, you might not miss the delivery," she replied, and she didn't sound like she was kidding either.

Cal barely refrained from running down the hallway.

When he entered the room, Cal's eyes went straight to Alyse's face. The nurse hadn't exaggerated. He was glad that relief crossed her face when she saw him. "You made it," she gasped.

Cal hurried to her side and took her right hand in both of his. "Of course I did." _Eyes, look at the eyes, don't look at the business end.  
><em>

Alyse smiled, just slightly, as if she knew what he was thinking. "Good. Cause we're out of time."

Obviously they had managed to turn the baby without any further problems. Cal didn't have time to respond when the nurse cut in, and Alyse was following her and Ren's directions with the next contraction…. Pushing.

"You want to see this?" The nurse asked him a few contractions later.

"I ah…"

"No," Ren answered right over top of him.

The nurse looked startled, but there wasn't time to converse.

_Look at Alyse, look at her face. It's all right. Don't listen to the sounds, don't look back. Just smile, look in her eyes.  
><em>

Then a loud yowl filled the air, and Cal knew it was over. Alyse's grip on his hands lessened seconds later as she collapsed into the pillows behind her. Hair disheveled, sweat soaked, she still looked lovely to him.

Cal leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You all right?"

"I will be," she nodded slightly, taking long, slow breaths. "After a month of sleep."

"I don't think either one of us it going to get it," Cal chuckled. He looked over at Ren, who had cut and tied cord and held the wailing child in her arms. "We've got a loud one this time."

"He certainly is," Ren chuckled, coming around the bed side.

He. "It's a boy?" Cal asked, though the answer was quite evident when she handed him his wailing son. The skin was so soft in his hands; the wriggling infant so very much alive.

"Oh yes, that's a boy," Alyse giggled. "Do I get to hold him?"

"What, oh… right." Cal leaned in and helped settle the tiny boy in Alyse's arms. Confronted with warmth, he wriggled close against Alyse instinctively, and quieted to a whimper.

"That's right," Alyse cooed. "You know where you are now, don't you Charles?"

They had agreed on the name only a couple of weeks ago. Cal could have hoped for something a little more informal, but at least it wasn't as bad as naming the kid after his own old man would have been. "He sure does." Cal reached out with one finger, very gently brushing the tip along his son's cheek. "Hey there, Charlie. You're a good looking little guy."

"Sure he is," Alyse smirked at him. "He takes after you."

"How can you tell that when he's still all wrinkled and red and yelling?" Cal teased.

Alyse looked down at their son, then up again. "It's the definite resemblance."

Cal tried to look offended. "Are you calling me a loud old man?"

"Not at all," she kissed his cheek. "Just very insistent."

"Usually that's a good thing," Cal countered.

"Yes," Alyse smiled up at him knowingly. "Usually."

**Dec 8****th****, 1969**

"So what are you doing for the holidays?" Tore asked as he and Charisa finished shoveling the snow off the walk from the stairs to his apartment all the way around the front of Rockbell Auto-mail. He hadn't asked Charisa to help, but she'd been over visiting when Winry had asked if he could help out that evening. "Your father's gone out of town right?"

Charisa nodded as she shoved a last scoop of snow off into the gutter. "Yeah. He decided he wanted a change of scenery for a bit. So he went to Creta, and then he's going to swing through South City to visit the rest of the family before coming home."

"Well good for him," Tore smiled. He knew the General hadn't been the same since his wife's unexpected passing. He spent very little time outside the house it seemed, and Charisa was always fretting about him. "Though that doesn't answer my question."

"Spending the holiday with Niam… and Denise," Charisa added, smiling after a moment. "She decided to stay in Central over the holidays this year. The University Orchestra has a big holiday concert series this year, and she was asked to play a violin solo for the Central Orchestra's New Year's concert."

"That's great!" Tore had heard Denise play – though he hadn't actually seen any of her Softball games. She was very talented. "Sounds like you'll have a good time."

"You're going to Resembool, right?" Charisa asked as they headed around back towards where they had started, at the base of the covered stairs that went up to Tore's apartment.

"That's the plan," said Tore. He paused at the back door of the shop. "Here, let me give those back," he took the snow shovel from Charisa, and ducked inside.

Winry was sitting in the shop, Dare on her lap, looking at a piece of auto-mail. She looked up in the middle of an explanation of the basics of design. "Finished already?" she asked.

"Yeah," Tore smiled as he put the shovels in the corner and reclaimed his son. "It didn't take us long."

"Well, thank you both," Winry smiled as she gave up the boy in her arms.

"No problem," Tore assured her. It was a very small thing to do, in his mind, and as part of the family it was just one of those things you pitched in and did. Besides, he knew that the cold weather bothered Winry's hands and wrists (and probably a few other joints) if she was out in it too long. "See you later." Several days later, he knew. Winry had come up for a few days to check on things and handle a business negotiation, but she'd be heading back to Resembool tomorrow by the express train to get everything ready for the holidays.

Charisa had beaten him upstairs, and the tea kettle was on the stove heating when Tore closed the door and set Dare down. Tore had his coat halfway off when he realized Charisa was hanging up his phone. "Who is it?"

Charisa turned around. "Noelle. She wanted to know if you wanted to get together after the holidays?" There was an odd note in her voice. Tore didn't think it was jealousy, but it did sound a bit guarded.

He smiled. "I'll give her and Jean a call back later. Thanks for catching the phone. Actually, do you want to go with me?"

That was not something she had expected; it was clear as she blinked. "Me?"

"Well why not?" Tore asked as he watched Dare run over and pounce near Rapscallion, who darted out of the way. "They've said they'd like to meet you." Which was true. He hung out with them semi-regularly, especially now that their son, Jean Jr., was almost two and sturdy enough that Dare couldn't hurt him on accident. He wondered if she was thinking what he thought she was. He had mentioned Noelle in passing before, always with Jean as reference too. But he hadn't told her much about them.

"Noelle is the one you met up in Buzcoul."

"Yes, that's right," Tore nodded. "When I was shot, her uncle hid me in his clinic until Cal got me out."

Charisa looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, I'm just going to ask this straight out. Were you and she… involved?"

So much for coming up with a subtle way to explain things. Tore shrugged then nodded. "Briefly, after we liberated Buzcoul during the war. But we've only been friends since then." Obviously, since Noelle was very happily to married to someone else.

"I see." Charisa smiled then, and looked a little more relieved. "Sure, I'd like to meet them. I mean, I think I've seen Jean Stevens around Headquarters. Sara says they hang out sometimes too."

"See, it'll be fun." Tore chuckled. "Besides, you should get out more. You work too much."

Charisa looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him. "Niam says the same thing."

"And we can't both be wrong," said Tore. For the past few months, all Charisa did was work it seemed. Friends had to pry her out of her half-empty apartment. Lonely at least.

"Don't push it," Charisa shook her head as the kettle started whistling. She turned and headed into his kitchen. "Or you can make your own hot beverages."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." He was the only man in Central – outside of family – who could get Charisa Breda (she had changed her name back almost immediately) alone in his kitchen fixing him a drink.

**Dec 19****th****, 1969**

"Nice work," Edward grinned as he picked up the kitchen pan on the table by the handle and looked it over. It was Urey's latest piece of original transmutation from raw materials. Smooth lines, perfectly even cooking surface, polished matte metal finish. "Now we can make lunch!"

Urey laughed, clearly pleased with his Grandfather's praise. "Which is, of course, why it was critical we do this transmutation this morning, right?" The thirteen-year-old alchemist stood and stretched. They had spent half the morning hunched over the cleared dining table working on various transmutation exercises.

"Of course." Ed agreed as he took the pan into the kitchen. "Winry can't make those Aerugean wraps without the right pan." They were hot wraps with meat and grilled vegetables, rolled in soft flat bread. Ed preferred his with avocados and sour cream.

"Not enough to feed everyone anyway," Winry agreed as she met him at the kitchen door. She owned one pan, but to make enough for the whole family it was better to have two. "Thank you, Urey. It looks perfect."

"You're welcome, Granny," Urey smiled back. "What's next Grandpa?"

"Sparring practice," Ed replied. Nothing like working up an appetite. "But it won't be just us. I thought we'd take a little walk down to the train station and meet up with the Central crew when they arrive, and Trisha could join us." And anyone else who was interested, but Ed would definitely be hijacking his other alchemy student.

"Great! Someone else for you to beat on." Urey quipped, ducking Ed's playful cuff at his head.

"More like someone else to beat on you," Ed chuckled. "Trisha spends a lot of time sparring with Roy, and you know how competitive those two are."

"Is that competing or flirting?" Reichart asked as he left off flipping through an art book to join them. He grinned. "When they were here this summer it sure looked like both."

Ed couldn't deny it. Trisha was fifteen, the same age Sara had started getting involved with boys. His daughter was lucky it hadn't started earlier. While he only saw them a few months out of the year, he had to agree that both of his other regular alchemy students – aside from being best friends – certainly seemed to have a growing interest. "Just don't tease her about it unless you want your shorts transmuted into something embarrassing," Ed warned him. If nothing else, Trisha had certainly developed more of her mother's temperament, though her temper was a bit calmer in most cases.

"He could just deal with being teased back," Urey suggested with a grin. "What are you doing here anyway, Art? Shouldn't you be with _Deanna_?"

Reichart chuckled, though he looked a little wistful. "I wish. Her family's visiting relatives on the other side of the mountain for the solstice." It was clear that he'd rather have had her around for the holidays.

"That's too bad." Ed sympathized. They'd been going out for two years, and it certainly looked pretty serious from Ed's perspective. There was definitely something of Aldon in his second son, the way Reichart spoke and smiled when he talked about Deanna. Fortunately, the boy seemed to have more patience and common sense.

"Yeah, especially with Coran bringing Gale," Urey added.

"Which is very nice of him," Winry cut in with a don't-go-teasing-your-brothers-too-much note to her voice. "She doesn't have a lot of family."

"Well, we've got plenty to share," Reichart grinned.

"Or spare," Urey laughed. "She can _have _Coran."

Reichart's grin turned slightly wicked. "I think that's the idea."

Ed laughed as Urey's face turned red. "Okay, let's think about something else instead. If we don't get going we'll leave everyone standing at the station." And really, there were some things they really just didn't need to be speculating on. Privately, Ed was fairly certain that there wasn't anything too intimate going on between the two of them; Gale wasn't the type and Coran seemed to be taking things slow; a hard learned lesson. But it wasn't something for them to be discussing anyway.

"Right. Can I come?" Reichart asked.

"Sure." Ed agreed as he headed for the door and grabbed a jacket off the rack. It was chilly outside, even if it wasn't snowing. "We can always use extra hands to help haul luggage."

* * *

><p>If there were a way to make Resembool and Central closer together so she could spend more time with all of her family at once, Winry would have loved to see it done. As it was, she had to settle for faster trains and transportation than existed when she was a girl. Having everyone around her, getting to catch up with them and enjoy time in person instead of over the phone or through letters, was by far the most wonderful way she could think of to spend her time.<p>

Especially when having everyone home even meant her auto-mail workshop was full. The house was just like that; half auto-mail talk, half (or more) alchemy, and half a dozen other fascinating topics that cropped up from time to time, usually punctuated by food (both discussion, and eating).

For once, though who knew how long that would last, no one was actually pregnant. Though Winry had already insisted on taking at least one turn snuggling little Charlie, who was only nineteen days old. At the moment, Alphonse had his grandson in hand, while Cal and Alyse snuggled on one of the living room couches, enjoying having free hands (such a rare event with a newborn).

Glad for free moments, Winry leaned against the doorjamb between kitchen and living room, just watching. Now that they were all there and somewhat unpacked, the adults all seemed content to just relax. Franz and Sara, Will and Ren, Ethan and Lia, Aldon and Cassie… Most of the adult couples were snuggled up comfortably on the living room furniture. Elicia and Gracia were in the kitchen making hot drinks, and after lunch Edward had taken his alchemy students back outside for the promised sparring match that had been – unsurprisingly – postponed until after eating.

Most of the other kids had piled outside to play under the watchful eye of Reichart, and within eye and ear shot of where she knew Ed was working with Urey and Trisha. The littlest few (the four and unders), remained in the living room, playing with a humongous pile of rainbow colored blocks that Ed and Urey had transmuted the day before. They were a variety of shapes, and held up well, but were as soft a wood as might be usable, so they held shape but didn't hurt as much when someone accidentally smacked one into their head. Eamon, Lily, Callie, Kamika, Gloria, and Dare seemed to be having a great time. Alphonse, perched in a stuffed chair he'd pulled away a little bit from the crowd, rocked the now-sleeping Charlie and took part in conversation from the sideline.

There were only three people missing, Winry realized. Coran and Gale were notably absent. Though given how hectic things had been getting off the train, Winry suspected they just wanted a little quiet time to themselves. She had no intention of going looking for them.

The one that made her feel mildly concerned was Tore's noted absence. Sure, Dare was giggling happily with the other little ones, but his father was nowhere to be seen.

"Wonderful sight isn't it?" Elicia smiled as she joined her in looking through the doorway.

"One of the best," Winry agreed, turning her head to look at Elicia. "Do you know where Tore is?"

Elicia blinked. "No. I thought he was in there with the others. Maybe he's outside sparring?"

That was possible, though she hadn't seen him slip out. "Possibly." Winry moved quietly towards the nearest window that looked out in that direction of the yard, to the flat area Ed kept clear for sparring, mostly because he had gotten tired of fixing gardens if he or his students got too enthusiastic. She could see most of the older kids playing tag with Reichart, and Ed working with Urey and Trisha, who both looked warm despite the chill outside. "Nope." She glanced back at the happily chatting couples. She didn't want to draw everyone's attention to Tore's absence. It was very possible that he'd rather no one had noticed. "I think I know where he might be though." On a hunch, she slipped across the long living room and down the wide hallway that led to the backdoor near her auto-mail shop. She peered out the door. There he was, standing on the back of the big wrap-around porch, staring out at past the ornamental Xingese meditation garden at the rolling hills and the creek, and the mountain rising up not too far behind the house. He looked melancholy.

Quietly, Winry fetched a coat and opened the door.

Tore glanced up, startled by the sound of the door closing. Something square vanished into his pocket and a guilty look touched his cheeks with red. "Oh, ah, hi Winry."

A quick sniff caught no scent of smoke. Not that Winry had really been expecting that, but his furtive action had made her cautious. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

Tore looked like he wanted to say yes, absolutely, but he didn't lie to her. Instead he shrugged. "Yeah, I'm okay. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"And at least part of it's in your pocket." Winry leaned up against the railing beside him, resting on her elbows, facing outward same as he was. There was no reason to play coy.

Now Tore did blush. "I…it's not anything…"

"I know, Tore," Winry smiled reassuringly. Despite his issues over the years, she doubted it was anything he couldn't do in his own apartment with his son around. She'd have smelled it for one thing.

Tore's expression said he had the feeling she wouldn't leave him alone until her curiosity was assuaged. It wasn't true, but Winry didn't say so. With a sigh, he pulled out what turned out to be a slightly worn-around-the-edges photograph.

It was a relatively old picture actually, though Winry knew the woman in it on sight. _Somehow, I'm not surprised. _"I thought you two were getting along," she commented neutrally. Tore was out here pining over a picture of Charisa. Though she knew they had been spending time together; after all, Charisa had helped him shovel the walk around the auto-mail shop just a couple of weeks ago.

"Oh we are," Tore assured her, almost a little too fervently. "I mean… yeah. We've been hanging out regularly. It's almost like old times."

_Pre-dating old times_. Or so Winry surmised. They hadn't dated very long at all, and that was years ago, but they had been best friends before that. "And that's not enough for you."

"Yes! I mean… no! I mean…." Flustered, Tore stuck the photo in his pocket again and ran one hand through his already ruffled hair. "No, it's not, but it has to be."

"Why?"

"Be…because I don't want to ruin what I have," Tore replied. "We're friends again. She trusts me, and just having her close again, being able to talk like we used to, without her looking at me like I've turned into some kind of asshole.. I…sorry."

Winry smiled. "I've heard worse."

Tore stared out at the landscape. "Every time I've tried to push things that way, it's backfired. I just don't think I could take losing her another time. If she knew I still lo-liked her, she'd probably put distance between us again."

There, wasn't much Winry could say to argue with that. She didn't know how Charisa felt. "It might," she conceded. "Or it might not. But given she only got divorced a few months ago, giving her time is a good idea right now. I have a feeling she's not unaware of how you feel."

"Really?" Tore looked half-hopeful, half-terrified.

She didn't have the heart to tell him how obvious it was. "She knows you. She knows you don't change easily, and you've put aside nearly everything to be a good friend to her. Charisa obviously still cares about you. It may just be friendship, or it may not. Don't worry about figuring it out so soon. If she's interested, eventually I'm pretty sure she'll tell you. After all, Charisa isn't the type to play games, or to be subtle about how she feels."

Tore nodded, and there was a look of relief in the back of his eyes. "Thanks. I… needed to hear that."

"I thought you might." Winry reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Just keep on as you are, and things will work themselves out in time." As long as Charisa kept coming to Tore and wanting to spend time with him, Winry knew that right now, that friendship was good for both of them. She just didn't want to see Tore get his heart broken again. He'd had to pick up the pieces more than enough. "Now, how about you come inside before all the hot drinks are cold?"

Tore looked over at her and offered him a slightly coy smile. "Are you offering me a drink?"

The hand on his arm turned into a half-slug. "Watch it, or you can scrub out all the cups tonight." And that was a lot of cups!

"Yes ma'am." But the cheeky grin was a definite improvement. Winry wanted Tore to enjoy the holidays.

**December 24****th****, 1969**

Like every major holiday involving a feast… the cooks had clearly won the battle, the war, and the day, and just about anything else they could have won with their amazing home cooking. By the time everyone had open gifts, devoured breakfast, played with and enjoyed their new things, and stuffed themselves on the main holiday meal, only a handful of people were left who were not unconsciously napping off their over-indulgence, or at least sitting in one of the many comfortable seats in front of the fireplace, somewhere between conversation and nap. ****

A lot of the littler ones had been tucked away upstairs in rooms for their naps, and Coran had to say, he was glad for it. As much as he loved his family, the larger it got the more it seemed a little overwhelming sometimes. He'd spent the last few days helping Gale adjust to being around that many people at once. It wasn't the same as the pile of auto-mail apprentices they hung out with. He was glad they all liked her; Gale fit in pretty naturally and she'd met a lot of them before coming at least once.

She'd been a little wide-eyed at all the food, though at the moment, he was trying hard not to smile as she gave him a slightly displeased expression as she stood over him, arms-crossed. "So we're not going?"

"Not right now," Coran nodded, stressing the 'now,' and hoping the disbelief left her face soon. "It's a holiday. This is one of those rare times where you're supposed to kick back and relax." Yes, he had promised her some detailed time showing her around his Dad's workshop at the other house, and a walk into town, but right now the idea of moving was enough to make him want to groan. Feast days in Resembool were not meant for moderation!

Gale did not look convinced. She had enjoyed the rest of the holiday so far, Coran guessed, in part because everyone was busy doing things. Right now… aside from the last dishes being washed in the kitchen by Grandpa and Great-Uncle Al, there was actually nothing going on. Frankly, Coran was wondering how those two could still move enough to do the dishes! _Practice_ was the only thought that came to mind.

"I think you're just too stuffed to move," Gale disagreed, poking him in the stomach.

"I think you're right," Coran didn't object, though he swatted her finger away with one hand and offered her an impudent grin. He was careful to keep in shape. A couple of times a year, he was allowed to enjoy the best cooking in Amestris. "So why don't you relax for a bit and join me?" There was room in the overstuffed chair for two, if they snuggled. Coran patted the spot next to him. Even if he had wanted to go with her – which he wasn't really opposed to – he doubted his stomach would appreciate it.

For a moment, Gale looked torn. Then she sighed, smiled, and sat down next to him. "Fine, but you owe me."

Coran slipped an arm around her shoulders. He paid little mind to the amused glances from some of his other relatives. None of them were 'kids'… but plenty said 'I've been there.' His parents were notably trying to look like they weren't even there. Coran kissed Gale's cheek and grinned. "I'm sure I can find a way to make amends."

Apparently he was forgiven. Gale snuggled into his side, and kissed him more directly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dec 28****th****, 1969**

"I'm amazed there's a barn in town big enough for this," Gale commented behind Edward as he and Winry entered the huge – and temporarily empty – barn used for festival judging of sheep in the spring.

Ed couldn't help grinning. "Sure there is. This place has a lot of livestock after all." Though at the moment none of those creatures were in evidence. The giant barn was lined old-fashioned style; hay bales stacked to make three levels of seating all along three sides of the building. Long tables were piled with food and drink and fresh evergreens tied in colorful ribbons festooned the rafters. On top of the electricity that actually lit the building, there were plenty of lanterns hung on hooks on the walls. "And it wouldn't be a barn dance without a barn."

He was actually looking forward to this more than he ever did the formal festivities in Central.

Gale eyed the tables. "Does anyone ever stop eating here?"

At that one, it was Aldon who burst out laughing. "Most everyone around here works hard labor all day, and most seven days a week. There's no rest for farmers; crops to tend, animals to raise and care for. There's always something and even maintaining the buildings falls to them. Around here, folks only call in help if the jobs too big for a couple of people or if it's highly specialized."

Coran was smiling. "The answer is no."  
>Gale shook her head, still looking a little bemused, but not critical. "Incredible."<p>

"Don't worry about it," Coran winked at her, and dragging her off towards the dance floor. "We've got hours to burn it off!"

Ed watched them go before turning to admire his wife. Winry wore a lovely pale-blue turtleneck sweater; another one of Lia's lovely knitted pieces, cream slacks, one of her presents from Ed this year; a set of silver earrings and matching pendant made of delicate, lacy knotwork. "Would you prefer to dance, eat, or socialize?"

Winry smiled. "A bit of all three eventually. We should get a few things to nibble first, or the good things will be gone though."

And his stomach would be growling half the night. Ed grinned. "Good idea."

"My ideas are always good ones," Winry teased. "You should know that by now."

* * *

><p>"Tore! Hey!"<p>

Tore turned away from the food table where he had been debating his options, and was first shocked by his immediate recognition of Vivi's face, and second by the realization that she was _very _pregnant, and she made her way through the crowd, her hand tightly in that of a tall, thin guy with short sandy hair and thin wire-framed glasses. "Hi," he replied, smiling back at her beaming face, and swallowed before he choked on the olive in his mouth. "How've you been?" As if that wasn't obvious.

Swathed in a thick, rose colored maternity sweater, Vivi blushed happily. "Good. Really good. Spenser, this is Tore Closson, you remember I've mentioned him; the alchemist who deals with electricity."

Spenser – her husband obviously – relaxed a bit, eyes lighting up in recognition. "Oh, right. You come with the Elrics." He offered Tore a hand. "Nice to meet you; Spenser Todd."

"Spenser's a bit of an inventor when it comes to electricity," Vivi smiled, clearly proud.

"Oh, come on, Viv," Spenser chuckled. "It's not that impressive." He looked back at Tore. "Dabble really. Most of the time I just work for the electric company in Pine City."

That was one of the small towns on the other side of the mountain ridge, Tore remembered. "So you live there now?" he asked.

Vivi nodded. "Spenser came to town a couple of years ago to help when the power lines went down in that snow we had, and we met and…well..." she blushed.

Tore remembered the snow. There had been more after he and the others had left the Elrics, and he remembered now that there had been issues with the power lines in town. So that meant he'd shown up right after Tore left town. Apparently Vivi hadn't had to wait long for the love of her life after all. "Well that's great," his smile widened a little. "So, when are you due?" That seemed a safe enough question given the friendly introduction.

"Four weeks," Vivi beamed.

"Not long then," Tore smiled. "You look good."

"Thanks. How's Dare?" Vivi asked.

"Growing like a stalk of wheat," Tore admitted, feeling a hint of pride. "He wanted to come tonight, but the little ones all stayed at the house." Alyse and Ren had offered to stay behind and watch them, seeing as they had the two youngest anyway, and Alyse couldn't leave Charlie for more than a couple of hours… and had flat refused given he was so tiny. Though they had firmly shoved Will and Cal out the door to have a good time.

"I'm sure they'll be asleep before you get back anyway," Vivi replied.

"Maybe," Tore chuckled. "But I'm sure at least a few of them will try and stay up that late, and probably succeed."

Vivi chuckled, then paused and looked up at her husband. "I need to sit down now, I think. And I could use a drink."

"Of course, darling." Spenser's soft blue eyes filled with loving concern as he put an arm around her back. "Good to see you," he said to Tore, a little absently as he ushered Vivi towards the bales to sit down.

"You too," Tore replied as he watched them vanish in the crowd. He was happy for her, really. And he didn't really feel, this time, like he'd lost out on anything. His heart was rather firmly stuck in someone else's hands, and he didn't want it anywhere else, no matter how things turned out.  
>It was definitely time to get a cup of that really good hard cider he'd had the last time he was here.<p>

* * *

><p>Reichart stood off to one side of the festivities, watching his brother and Gale dancing, and sipping his own hot mulled cider; not the hard stuff. He was glad to see Coran smile. He'd been so uptight and stressed when he'd lived at home all the time. Now he had a career path, and a girl he obviously adored. Gale was good for him too. She didn't put up with stupidity or nonsense, but she was a kind, down to earth, really nice person to talk to when you got the chance. He had been glad to get to know her better this week.<p>

Off to one side, he saw Urey chatting with a couple of his friends from school; and they weren't all guys. Reichart smiled. His younger brother looked good these days, and was a lot more confident thanks to all his training with Grandpa Ed. He was snacking like everyone else, but his plate was filled at least half with fresh vegetables and dip.

It was hard not to roll his eyes when he found Ian in the crowd. Ian had refused to stay behind, and he was having quite the time of it. Not surprising given, despite being not-yet-thirteen, he was proving to be a natural not only at sports, but acting. He got a lot of roles in the local regional theater's productions lately, and got told – far too often in Reichart's mind – just how cute and talented he was.

Oh, Ian was still a nice kid, but the attention was obviously something he liked. When Reichart spotted him this time, Ian was out on the dance floor – again – with the third or fourth girl he had danced with already that evening. There was no doubt that his brother was having no trouble or reservations about having a growing interest in girls. _Dad's going to have his hands full with him,_ Reichart sighed silently.

Watching his family, of most generations, paired off and having a good time left a very solid ache in his middle. Sure, Deanna was supposed to be back in a couple of days, but for the past two years, unless he was out of town, they had spent almost every afternoon together. Lately, that had included studying instead of finishing work first and going out second. She spent a lot of time at his house, and he at hers. He was just lucky his father trusted him alone outside of supervision with his girlfriend. Reichart knew that, after Coran's mishaps, it had taken a lot for his father to trust that it wouldn't be an issue with all of his sons.

Reichart, at least, planned to wait until he was married before he started having kids! He and Deanna both felt about the same on the subject, and that made the waiting easier. They wanted to finish school first, and find work. Then they could afford to take care of the family they wanted. And that would be critical, since Deanna had already admitted she thought a family the size of _his_ would be fine. Reichart wasn't so sure he wanted _that _many, but at least they could take it one at a time.

And thinking about it just made him miss her more keenly.

"Hey, Art! Aaaaaart!"

Reichart looked down at Ian, who was grinning at him. "What is it?"

Ian smirked. "Quit with that depressed face, will ya? Try dancing or something instead of standing over here like a petrified log."

Reichart rolled his eyes. "With who?" Unless he felt like dancing with Trisha, or one of his aunts, or Granny…. What was the point?

Ian shook his head. "That hot blond over there would be a good start."

Reichart glanced towards where Ian was pointing… and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Deanna standing in the entrance, looking around expectantly. "Take this." He shoved his near-empty cup in Ian's hands and the next thing he knew he was moving through the crowd. Not that he could have said if he was saying anything to anyone, or if they just vanished out of the way.

The next thing he was fully aware of, his hands were resting on her arms and those beautiful blue eyes were smiling up at him. What was she doing here? Had they come back early? Had she missed him too much? "Welcome home," he said softly.

Deanna smiled, and stretched up the little bit she always did to kiss him. As soon as their lips met, Reichart gave no further thought to the crowded room. The sounds melted away; the people, the music. It was just the two of them.

When he came back to the world, they were still locked in a warm hug. "I came back early," she smiled. "I didn't want to miss tonight, with you."

"I'm so glad you did." He held her tightly. "I've been so lonely this week without you."

"Lonely," Deanna giggled, beaming; her cheeks still rosy from the cold outside. "With your family?"

Reichart chuckled. It did sound pretty silly. "But they're not you," he pointed out softly. "My heart is lost without you."

"Oh Art…" she breathed. "How poetic."

His own cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I'm allowed to have a good line sometimes aren't I?"

"One not painted on canvas," Deanna agreed. "Though I think all your lines are good ones." Then her cheeks turned bright pink.

He couldn't help laughing, though he had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking. Reichart couldn't help but hope she liked _his_ lines too. "Ditto," he replied, kissing her again, a little less frantically than before. "So now that you're here, it really is a party. Would you like to dance?"

Deanna recovered her composure and took his arm. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Everything was right again in his world. Reichart considered himself a reasonable, fairly down to earth guy, but there were just some things he was already learning didn't have to be 'common sense' to be absolutely right.

* * *

><p>"Are you really going to have another one of those, Alphonse?"<p>

Al turned around and grinned at his wife as he took a bite out of one of the little fruit tarts he'd taken off the dessert end of the food tables. "It's spiced apple, of course I am. And I don't feel one bit guilty about it either."

Elicia shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. "Did I say you should?"

No, she hadn't. Al chuckled. He and Ed had spent half the holiday roughing each other up sparring. "Last one for the year," he promised with an impish grin.

Elicia smirked. "Well that's not much of a promise."

Al pulled out his watch. Two minutes. "Nope, it's not," he agreed. "But I can think of a better one."

"What's that?"

Reaching out, Al pulled his wife close in his arms. "How about if I promise to kiss you until next year?"

Elicia smiled. "I like that one."

That was a promise Alphonse could keep.

**January 1****st****, 1970**

Not everyone slept late the next morning, though a lot of people did. Winry, Gracia, and Elicia were up as always, ready to help feed and wrangle the swarm of well-slept kids who were all eager and ready to play. Winry was just grateful when Ed and Al agreed to keep an eye on them all and herded their grandkids outside, save for Charlie, who remained insistently in Alyse's arms. _At least one generation has learned some moderation._ Winry refused to think of it as just the fact they were all a bit older than they used to be.

The second crowd to make their way down to the breakfast table after the kids – and Ren and Alyse – were, Winry noted with some amusement, were the teens and her own daughter, who looked bleary from being out late; though none the worse for wear otherwise. "And how are you this morning?" she asked, smiling.

Sara glared at her before giving a tired chuckle and dropping down at the table next to Alyse and Trisha, who was dressed and chowing down on her oatmeal, clearly eager to join her grandfather outside. "Thinking that it's horribly unfair to feel this tired without so much as a drop to drink the night before."

"Where's Franz?"

Sara's smile turned slightly wicked. "Regretting last night. I think he misjudged just how potent that cider is."

"Would you like breakfast?" Winry offered. "There's coffee, juice, milk, and you've got the option of either oatmeal or biscuits."

"Coffee and a biscuit sound great," Sara nodded. "Is this everyone who's up?"

"Well I don't know about the other house," Winry pointed out, chuckling, "But there are a few boys still asleep upstairs." Aldon, Cassie, their entire crew, and Gale – who Coran insisted should stay with his family – were back at their place, but they hadn't come over yet, so she could only assume they were still in the same disheveled state.

Alyse chuckled. "Cal."

"Will," said Ren.

"We haven't seen Tore yet either," Gracia commented as she joined them with a freshly brewed pot of tea. "Though I think all of the rest of the kids are outside already with Edward and Alphonse."

"Even Dare?" Sara asked.

"He slept in with the twins last night," Lia commented from her seat beside Ren. "So they got us all up about the same time."

Sara chuckled. "So where's Ethan?"

Lia smiled. "I let him go back to sleep. He's enjoying being buried in the blankets."

"At least one of us gets to sleep in just for the fun of it," Cal commented as he trudged down the stairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning, in his blue sweats and a white undershirt.

"At least Ethan had the sense not to try and drain the cider dry," Sara quipped.

"Move over, Twilight," Cal grumbled as he sat down in the chair at the end of the table. "We weren't that bad."

"Defending yourself?" Sara asked wryly.

"Couldn't let those local boys think city boys are sissy-folk could we?" Cal countered in an over-accented drawl, that sounded to Winry more like western-mountain town than Resembool. But then, that's where Cal had come from originally.

Alyse looked no less forgiving than Sara, though her smile was gentler, and more amused as she fed Charlie. "You're as backwoods as they are, Calvin."

"They don't know that," Cal countered. He squinted at the table. "Coffee, please…."

"Coming right up," Gracia promised with a slightly more sympathetic expression as she vanished into the kitchen as Elicia came out and put coffee and a biscuit in front of Sara, who immediately slathered the biscuit in butter and raspberry preserves.

"Who won?" Ren asked curiously. "Will wasn't in much condition to say last night."

Winry and Ed had come home right after midnight, so she hadn't seen or heard the goings on of the rest of the party. It usually ran all the way until whenever the last revelers decided to go home.

"We did," Cal grinned. "Barely."

"This is one of those _you should see the other guy_ stories, isn't it?" Lia shook her head.

"I'll spare you the gory details," Cal smirked. "But in the end the only ones left standing… literally, were Tore and me."

"Standing is a bit of an exaggeration," Will grumbled, joining them. He looked a little better than Cal. "Given Ethan and I had to help drag their asses home."

"Language," Ren corrected.

"Sorry," Will apologized automatically as he came around and dropped into a seat at the far end, near the windows.

"Coffee?" Gracia asked with a knowing smile as she set one steaming cup down in front of Cal, then offered another one to her grandson.

"Thank you, Grandma," Will took the cup, added cream, and sipped slowly.

"Bless you, kitchen goddess." Cal looked like he would have guzzled his if it hadn't been steaming hot.

"I thought I was the kitchen goddess," Alyse commented.

"It runs in the family," Cal quipped, taking the coffee down straight and black.

Gracia just smiled. "You're welcome, boys."

Elicia looked amused. "Does this mean you boys aren't joining Ed and Al for the first sparring practice of the year?"

Will shook his head. "Not in a million years, Mom. Maybe if I get another couple of days of sleep."

Cal's response was more pragmatic. He grinned smugly despite the hangover. "I will if Tore does."

"Oh good luck with_ that_."

"Ethan?" Lia looked up the same time Winry did. "I thought you were going to sleep in, honey?"

Ethan shrugged as he came in, dressed, and kissed Lia's forehead. "I was, but my stomach had other plans." He smiled and headed straight for the kitchen. Winry watched her son fill a bowl to the brim with oatmeal and grab two biscuits before claiming a corner of the table by his wife.

"I swear, Ethan, you eat like you've had a tapeworm for the last thirty years," Will teased his cousin.

Ethan grinned over his food as he coated the biscuits in apple butter. "So do you. Difference is I look like it."

Will's mouth was half-open before he shut it again, and half-glared at him. "I don't know how you managed to turn that into a compliment on your part."

Ethan shrugged and took a huge bite of his biscuit. "Talent."

* * *

><p>Nearly everyone was out of bed and functional by the time Edward and Alphonse came in just before lunch, heralding the return of the kids. Ed could still tell immediately who the heavy revelers had been, and which ones had been out far later than he had in general. In truth, he kind of would have liked to have joined them, but curling up for a good night's sleep with Winry had definitely been more appealing even though he hadn't been all that tired.<p>

Most of said revelers were still lounging in front of the huge fireplace, though someone had wheeled the television stand away from the wall and centered it so they could watch, and located a channel showing a recording of the West City versus North City hockey game from the week before. __

_Not a bad way to get over a hangover, I suppose. _Franz, Cal, Will, and Ethan certainly seemed to be enjoying discussing various plays, certain players, and who they thought of the various professional teams that had sprouted up in Amestris in the past few years would make the finals.

Aldon and Cassie had arrived, but other than looking tired, Aldon seemed chipper enough. Coran, Gale, and Reichart were all notably absent.

"Lose a chunk of the family last night?" Ed asked his son with a grin.

"Nope, this morning," Aldon chuckled. "Coran and Gale went with Reichart and Deanna into town."

"Sounds like a fun double-date." Ed hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves. He tried not to smile as Franz shushed James with a wince, as James bounced on his feet, excitedly talking about the game of hide-and-seek they had been playing outside.

"It's nice to have all our boys in a good mood," Cassie chuckled as she headed upstairs. Somewhere above – probably the craft room – Ed heard female voices.

"I'll second that," Aldon grinned. "Art's not nearly as mopey as Coran can be, but he definitely missed Deanna this week."

"Well they're pretty serious." Ed had seen them together enough over the past couple of years to know that much. "I wouldn't put it past them to make you a grandfather before Coran does." When Aldon's face blanched, Ed laughed. "I mean I bet Art gets married before Coran does." There seemed no doubt in his mind that Reichart was as completely in love with Deanna as Aldon had been with Cassie.

"Mind you, I like Deanna," Aldon admitted, "But Art's barely seventeen, and she's little more than a month older."

"So you think Coran will get around to it first."

"I do," Aldon nodded. "He and Gale are a little older, it's obvious they're serious, but they're already closer to being in a reasonable position to have a family." He smirked then. "And past be hanged, I think Gale won't let there be even the likelihood of kids until Coran marries her."

Ed had to admit, he was grateful both of his likely-to-be-granddaughters-in-law seemed to be well filled with common sense and propriety. They brought out the best in the boys, instead of the worst. "Well I'll take that bet, then."

Aldon seemed to finally get that Ed wasn't really kidding. He laughed. "Fine. But what are we betting?"

Sens seemed kind of silly. "Favors maybe," Ed suggested. "Work around the house. I've got a couple more outside projects in mind at some point."

"So do I. All right, work it is," Aldon grinned. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

It could definitely be a while.

When Aldon went to join the other guys in front of the TV, Ed noticed that Tore was missing. He poked his head in the kitchen. Winry wasn't in there, but he found Gracia. "Hey, Gracia, have you seen Tore?"

She looked up, and shook her head. "No. As far as I know he's still in bed."

"Has anyone checked on him?"

Gracia gave him a reassuring nod. "I poked my head in a little while ago. He's still breathing if that's your concern."

"Thanks." Still, he couldn't help feeling concerned. Even Cal – who looked a bit like death warmed over still – was up and alert. Ed decided to go have a look for himself.

* * *

><p>If he thought it would really happen, Tore might have sworn to himself he was never going to get that drunk ever again. But really, he doubted his life was going be easy enough for him to find that likely. Still, it wasn't that unbearable. It was that 'almost wishing he could die' misery that he had, at one point, been fairly used to. Only <em>boy<em> was he out of practice.

The clock read nine the first time he bothered to creep his eyes open enough in the blaring winter morning sunlight. The second time he was conscious enough to check it said eleven-oh-five. Sleep was preferable; if he just stayed in bed, he'd be able to get through the worst of it with his pride – and his stomach – intact.

_Damned country farmboys and their damned tolerance. _It was just a good thing the stuff hadn't been harder than it was. He could still feel it in the steady pounding that seemed to encompass his entire head.

Tore hoped the rest of 1970 wasn't like this.

"Hey you." A hand poked him in the shoulder through the cocoon of covers Tore had wrapped himself in to avoid the light. "You alive in there?"  
><em><br>Sure I am. Can't you hear me screaming in my head?_ "Whaddya want?" Tore grumbled, not caring how coherent he was through the sheets. Fullmetal could stuff it.

"To talk," Ed replied, and Tore had no more warning than that before he felt the covers sliding and tugging and his head was exposed to fresh air; and bright noon-day sunshine.

"Gah!" Tore grabbed for a pillow instead, burying his face. "It's a holiday, damn you."

To his surprise there was no further 'attack.' Instead, he heard a sigh and felt Ed sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just wanted to check on you. Winry said Dare's been asking for you all morning."

Dare… oh great, now he felt guilty too. His three year old wanted his daddy, who was laying out hung-over upstairs; Fan-fricking-tastic.

Apparently his lack of response was not enough to convince Ed to leave him alone. "It's almost lunch time. You should get up and at least rehydrate."

_That your way of telling me since I already know this I should know better?_ No, that wasn't right. He knew Ed didn't mean it that way.

"I guess you're pretty glad Charisa's not here to see you this pathetic."

"Well of course I-" Tore was sitting up and glaring at Ed before he realized he'd been goaded. His head swum, his stomach churned. With a groan he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

At least Ed didn't look smug…for once. "Thought so."

Tore glowered at him. "Don't read too much into this," he groused. Charisa had nothing to do with why he got drunk last night. Ego, stupidity, and a good time were much more culpable.

"All right," Ed shrugged. "So why don't you tell me why you've been moping about said lovely redhead all week? It's not like you've been hiding it."

Tore didn't think Winry would have told Ed anything said in confidence, which meant Ed had figured it out on his own. "Do we have to have this discussion while I'm hung-over?"

"You're more straightforward when you're in pain."

Unfortunately, that was true. "I'm…just worried about her."

That elicited a concerned frown. "Why?"

A loaded question; Tore didn't want to go into the details. Those were Charisa's. "She's just having a rough time of it," he summarized. "I mean, she didn't get a divorce all that long ago, and it was pretty nasty business; I don't think she's really over her mother's death, and she's worried all the time about her father."

"About Breda?"

He wasn't doing a very good job of getting Ed to leave this alone was he? Damn it. "Well yeah, I mean, he lost his wife and it's barely been a year. I'd think that would be tough on a guy."

Ed didn't look surprise, nor did he look contrite; just worried. "Well, yeah." He dropped the subject. "Okay, so you're worried. I don't blame you, but don't think that for a minute I buy that it's just because you're friends."

Tore didn't try and deny it. "Fine, I won't."

"Good." Ed watched him again for several long seconds. "Now get up and rehydrate like the rest of your comrades-in-arms from last night, will you?"

Apparently everyone else was up already… even Cal. How _did_ he do that? "Fine." Tore sighed. He would have nodded, but it would hurt too much. "Let me get a shower and I'll be down."

Ed stood then. Good, he wouldn't have to tell him to vacate. "I'll let Dare know you're up," he added as he closed the door behind him.

Which meant now Tore really couldn't fall asleep again. He'd disappoint his son. _Better brush my teeth too._ Or his whole mouth. Yecch. Though Tore couldn't deny one thing Ed had said. If Charisa had been here… no, he wouldn't have even agreed to that damned contest.


	3. Chapter 3

**January 6****th****, 1970  
><strong>

Two days until school started again; Trisha was torn between looking forward to getting back to school or dreading it. On the one hand, she was a good student and there were no classes that really gave her trouble. On the other, it really ate into the time she would rather spend studying alchemy, and hanging out with her friends.

Fortunately, sometimes she could do both. The last Saturday before the semester, and she had gotten permission from her mother to do their alchemy training in the morning, leaving the afternoon free to do whatever she and Roy wanted to do.

"That movie was hysterical," Roy grinned as they strolled through the streets of downtown Central in the late-afternoon sunshine. It was getting dark, and chilly, but that was all right. "I mean, I liked it, but the stunts were completely unrealistic."

"You know that, and I know that," Trisha chuckled, "But I'm sure for anyone who doesn't know anything about fighting it looks good enough. It is pretty exciting to watch anyway."

"I did say I liked it," Roy pointed out, his hands stuck in the pockets of his matte-black leather jacket; a holiday present from his parents. "So, what do you want to do now with what's left of our freedom?"

"Something more exciting than a bad action movie and burgers?" Trisha suggested with a chuckle. She was grateful for the warm sweater Aunt Lia had given her this year; warm, a soft heather green, and it fit well too. Trisha wasn't as busty as a lot of the other girls had turned out in the last year or so since they'd all started high school, but at least in this sweater it made her look more like a woman than a little kid. "Hey, Roy, can I ask you something?"

"Hrm, sure. What is it?" He glanced over at her curiously.

Trisha fingered the end of her braid. "Do you think I should cut my hair?"

Roy stopped walking. "Why?"

Trisha slowed up. "Why not? I thought it might look, you know, older, more sophisticated." She was tired of being mistaken for a twelve year old outside of school.

For some reason, Roy was giving her a really odd look. "Well I… no, I don't think you should."

"Okay." Trisha cocked her head a little to one side. "Can I ask why?"

Was he blushing? Roy averted his eyes and shrugged, and started walking again. "I just, I think you look better with it long."

"Oh." _Oh._ Trisha felt her cheeks warming. "Thanks, Roy. I didn't realize you felt so strongly about it."

"I wouldn't call it strong," Roy objected, pausing again outside their destination; a burger joint that had long been a favorite of Central teenagers. "Hey you, want to go somewhere else?"

"Not in the mood for burgers?" Trisha asked. Usually Roy would eat pretty much anything. He'd hit a growth spurt not that long ago, shooting up another couple of inches. His shoulders had gotten broader too.

"Not in the mood for the crowd."

Trisha looked through the window. Inside she could see over a dozen high-school kids already filling most of the booths, and it was too chilly to sit at one of the sidewalk tables. "Sure. Did you have someplace in mind?"

"How about over there?" Roy pointed just across the way at the Aerugean restaurant across the street. It was a bit pricier, but Trisha was pretty sure she could afford something decent. She'd eaten there plenty of times with her folks.

"Great," she smiled. "I love Aerugean. They're not as good as your Mom's food, but I like what they've got."

"No one's Aerugean is as good as Mom's," Roy pointed out with a chuckle. He glanced both ways and then together they crossed the street. Fortunately the restaurant wasn't nearly as crowded so early in the evening and they were immediately shown to a table.

"Here, let me get that." Roy pulled out a chair.

Curious, very curious. Not that Roy wasn't usually a gentleman; he just rarely stood on formality with her. "Thank you." Trisha sat down and picked up her menu as Roy sat across from her.

It was after they ordered that she noticed him watching her. Not just looking her direction there was something… Trisha tried not to blush as she sipped her cola. She couldn't deny that her best friend was cute; okay hot. All the girls at Central High thought so. Especially lately. But, unlike his father and, to some extent, his grandfather, Roy didn't seem interested in cultivating women. _Grandpa said that was partially an act on General Mustang's part anyway._

And now he was looking at her with a quiet intensity she wasn't used to despite having known him for fifteen years. "What's the matter?" she broke the odd silence with a smile. "I can't possibly have something in my teeth."

Roy blinked. "What, oh no, it's nothing like that."

"Then why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?" Trisha chuckled. "It's obvious you're distracted." Maybe Roy was interested in someone, and he just wasn't sure how to tell her. Or he was afraid Trisha would be jealous or… she swallowed.

Roy looked down at the chips on the table and dipped one in the spicy salsa he always preferred over the mild. He didn't say anything until he'd finished it. "It's just that… I got you a present."

"Well, yeah, we exchanged presents before the holidays." She'd asked Aunt Lia to knit Roy a pair of those fantastic gloves she made, complete with the alchemy circle Roy used most often. He'd gotten her new drafting pencils; perfect for designing and drawing transmutation circles.

Now her friend actually looked slightly uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't that kind of present? Roy nodded. "Yeah, well. It's something else." He pulled out a small green paper sack and slid it across the table.

Curious – and heart beating a little faster – Trisha picked up the package. This was so unlike him. Not the kindness, but the nerves. She had the feeling this was far different than alchemy supplies. _This is the kind of wrapping they use in jewelers. _Trisha opened the package and found one of those little felt bags. It wasn't leftover wrapping from something for his mother or sisters then. Trisha slipped her fingers inside, and pulled out what turned out to be a thin, silver chain. At the end was a simple pendant, a circle, filled in with cut swirls, and a single small round stone in the center in deep blue. _That's a real sapphire! _

Her manners took over. Shaking herself, Trisha looked up at Roy. "Thank you. It's beautiful…" But what had she done to deserve something like this? It looked expensive, and she couldn't see Roy spending anyone's money but his own on a present. He was like that.

Roy had gathered himself, it seemed. He smiled, clearly relieved; his usual open smile. "I'm glad you like it. It ah… it reminded me of you."

"Well it's very thoughtful." Trisha opened the clasp and refastened the pendant around her neck. It fell to just the right spot. When she looked up again, her friend was staring at it. And consequently… Okay, now she was blushing. "Roy," she tried to keep her voice light. "You're staring again." She wasn't stupid. Trisha had known, or had suspected at least, for the last couple of years that maybe Roy liked her more than just a friend. Or maybe it was just that she had thought she was growing to like him like that.

Maybe it was both.

Roy reached out across the table, resting one hand on hers. She didn't move it. "I'll stop if you want," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "But I just… well okay, it's really hard not to. I see you every day, but sometimes it still doesn't feel like enough."

"There's not much more you could see me without moving into my house," Trisha pointed out, smiling. "And I think my parents would both have something to say about that."

This time, she had made Roy blush, but it worked. He laughed. "Yeah. I'd like to live." And like that, the tension was broken. "I like you, Trisha. I mean, we've been friends forever, but lately, I can't help thinking of you as a woman as much as my friend. I like being around you, and even when other girls flirt with me… I keep thinking I'd rather spend that time with you."

"You know," Trisha winked. "Usually it's a bad idea to mention other girls when confessing your feelings." But inside, her heart fluttered, and it felt nice. So she'd been right after all, and she couldn't help but feel happy about it.

Roy blanched, but he seemed to realize she was joking. "You're an imp," he grinned. "A stubborn, quick-witted little imp. But then, maybe that's why I find you so attractive."

Trisha giggled. "I can live with that," she admitted. "You may be the sweetest egotist I've ever known."

"I ah… thanks." Roy shook his head after a moment. "So does that mean you'll go out with me?"

"We're already out," Trisha pointed out, enjoying ruffling him, just a little. It was cute when there were cracks in his usual show of confidence. "And we're here, and I'm wearing the necklace you bought me. So if you agree to buy my dinner, you can call this our first official 'date.'" After all, they'd been hanging out like this for years.

"So that's how you play it." Roy grinned and squeezed her hand. "Of course I'll pay, this time."

And she'd get it next time, just like always. Trisha leaned over the table and, instinctively, Roy leaned in closer. Good. She was glad they were tucked away in a corner booth. "Then it's agreed," she whispered then tugged the collar of his shirt closer and kissed him before she could lose her nerve.

Kissing Roy, she discovered, might just qualify as more fun than doing alchemy.

**January 10****th****, 1970**

"Are you sure you shouldn't go meet him at the train?" Winry asked, looking up at the living room clock.

Ed shrugged. "Breda said he'd make it to the house on his own when he got here." The man used to be out of East Headquarters. He knew the area pretty well and Ed had given him directions to the house. "Maybe he just thought he'd enjoy the walk, see the neighborhood."

"Dead January fields, how thrilling." Winry chuckled, adjusting her reading glasses and looking back down at the book on her lap. "Thank goodness it's not a confusing road."

The train had almost certainly arrived by now. Ed was just contemplating putting down the proof copies of his latest adventure novel – almost ready to go to print – when he heard a solidly familiar knocking at the door. "And there he is, nothing to worry about." Smiling, he put down the proofs at the table anyway and stood. "Come on in!" he called out. "The door's unlocked."

"Well, I'm glad I found the place before my knees gave out," Breda's deep voice laughed through a panting huff as the door clicked open and shut.

"It's not hard," Ed chuckled, coming around the corner into view of the door.

Breda stood in the entry, grinning broadly as he divested himself of his winter coat and set his suitcases by the door.

Ed was stopped short by a twinge of dismay. _Geez, what did you do? Eat your way through Creta? _Suddenly, he understood what Tore had said about Charisa being worried about her father. "It's good to see you," he continued as if nothing had given him pause. "It's been a while."

"It has," Breda agreed, still smiling, then he glanced around, as if remembering something. "How's that dog of yours?"

Ed felt a slight twinge. "Pir died a few months ago. We haven't replaced him."

"Oh. I'm…" Breda looked momentarily easy. It was clear he wanted to say he was sorry, but given his fear of dogs, that was probably difficult.

"Don't worry about it," Ed smiled. "He was old. Come on in and get warm. You want something to drink?"

"Or eat?" Winry added as Ed heard her coming closer. "I was just getting ready to start dinner."

Breda's eyes lit up. "Excellent," he grinned as he headed towards the living room. "I'm starving."

_I bet you are._ "Nothing on the train?" Ed asked.

"Nothing as good as Winry's cooking," Breda grinned.

Winry laughed. "Well, thank you. Why don't you relax while I get started? Would you like coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee please," Breda nodded as he willingly settled into one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. "Oh that's nice."

Ed joined him, taking the end of the nearest couch instead. "So I take it you enjoyed Creta." He knew that Breda had partially taken the trip to get out of Central, but also because it had been the one thing he and Nancy hadn't done together. Perhaps he had felt she might be closer to him if he went.

The grin broadened. "Creta was fantastic. All the places you suggested visiting were definitely worth it."

Ed remembered that list, it had included various museums, cultural centers, ancient ruins, more modern sites, and quite a few of his favorite restaurants. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. And how's the rest of the family?" Breda had gone through South City on his way here, to visit his step-daughter-in-law, her kids, and the subsequent kids that now filled Nancy's side of the family.

"Doing well," said Breda. "It was a good visit."

And so the small talk continued until dinner. Ed was glad Breda seemed in much better spirits than he had a year ago. It was obvious he still missed Nancy – well, obvious to Ed – but he seemed otherwise pretty happy.

Ed didn't buy it, but he kept his mouth shut on that fact.

At least until after dinner and an evening of conversation. Once he got back up to the privacy of his and Winry's room, he just couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Okay, I know something's bothering you," Winry commented as they got ready for bed.

Ed made himself stop pacing. "Tore mentioned that Charisa was worried about Breda, though he wouldn't really say why other than the obvious, but…"

Winry's expression turned understanding. "You don't believe he's as happy as he acts either, do you?"

Good, so he wasn't imagining it. "Of course not," Ed shook his head. "I just didn't realize he was still taking things so hard. Or maybe he's not, but I think he's still missing her." As if that wouldn't be painfully obvious. "I guess I mean he seems depressed." That or severely regressed psychologically back over thirty years. Somehow, Ed doubted the second.

"Well maybe we can do something to cheer him up," Winry suggested as she stepped up behind Ed, her arms wrapping around his chest. "Now why don't you stop worrying yourself like frayed rope and come to bed?"

Ed took a deep breath, then nodded and turned to face her. "You're right. He's here for a few days, maybe we can help." If Breda would accept his help again.

**January 11****th****, 1970 **

Creeping downstairs without waking people was hard when both of Breda's knees groaned worse than the very-well-built set of stairs. Lately they had been bothering him again; blasted cold weather. The fact that he hadn't turned on the lights didn't make the going any easier, but the moon outside was near full, and there was plenty of blue-white moonlight spilling across the living room floor. It would be setting before too much longer, but for the moment, there was enough light to see.

Breda didn't want to bother Edward and Winry's sleep. Once he got off the stairs he padded as quietly as he could manage across the room and into the kitchen; stomach rumbling the whole way. Just a light snack, then back to bed. He reached for the refrigerator handle and tugged.

Nothing happened.

After several attempts, there was nothing to be done. The refrigerator door would not budge. Was it locked? Breda couldn't imagine how one could lock, let alone why it would be in the middle of the night. _I'll bet it's Ed's doing. _Breda scowled. Didn't his friend trust him? _Why?_ His conscience asked. _Would you?_

Breda sighed. At least there was the fruit bowl. He turned around and reached for an apple.

"You give up easily."

At the soft words, Breda looked up and found Ed standing in the room. He hadn't even heard him come down those squeaky stairs.

"I'm not sure whether I should ask how or why your refrigerator doesn't open," Breda admitted as he took a bite out of the apple.

Ed shrugged. "It's a safety precaution on my part actually. Snacking half asleep is dangerous," he chuckled. "One time I ate an entire jar of Aerugean hot peppers before I realized it… thought they were pickles until my whole mouth started burning. Did a number on my stomach too."

Breda winced. He could just imagine the results of that mistake. "Sounds painful," he agreed. "So… I didn't wake you did I?"

"No," Ed replied, and Breda couldn't tell if he was telling the truth, or a bluff to make him feel better. "My stomach did that." He grinned then as he put his hands together and touched them to the refrigerator. A moment later it opened easily. Ed reached in and pulled out a small hunk of white cheese and a few strawberries. Then he set them on a plate and resealed the refrigerator.

"That's it?" Breda looked skeptically at the snack he would have considered small for almost anyone, except maybe his daughter.

"It's enough to settle my stomach so I can sleep until breakfast," Ed chuckled as he took a bite out of the cheese. "Besides, I live the lazy retired life here, remember? I only get to spar once or twice a day outside of my own workout."

Breda shook his head. "Work outs, sparring, writing adventure novels, travel; that doesn't sound like retirement, Ed."

"Sure it is," Ed disagreed. "I don't have to report in to HQ anymore and do paperwork. That by itself makes it relaxing. And you've been traveling."

He had a point. Breda smiled, finished the apple, and tossed the core in the little can the Elrics kept for food scraps. Rather ingeniously, they all went to the pigs on the farm a couple of miles off. "And I've enjoyed it. Though it'll be nice to get back to Central." He didn't take anything else to eat. The curb off his hunger, it was probably better to wait until morning.

Ed nodded as he finished the handful of strawberries. "I'm sure Charisa and Niam miss you," he agreed. "And there's just nothing like being home."

"No, there isn't." And, Breda had to admit, it was nice to be missing home, instead of feeling like it was a trap, a memory of Nancy that threatened to overwhelm him at every moment. Maybe now, with a little more distance, being in the house would no longer feel like he had already died too.

Ed finished the cheese and put the small plate in the sink. "Well I'm going back to the dream my stomach interrupted." While he said nothing else, the way he headed for the stairs felt like a subtle hint to Breda.

Breda followed. He wouldn't mind a good dream himself. It had been a while since he'd had one.

**January 12****th****, 1970**

Charisa sat in the family room of Jean and Noelle's little town house, listening to the murmur of Jean and Tore talking about something in the living room - probably something to do with the military - and wondered how she had come to be here...other than invitation of course. She wasn't here as Tore's date, just a friend. And still she was in the home of yet another of his ex-girlfriends. Fortunately - unlike Cecilia - Noelle so far seemed perfectly sensible, friendly, and sane! She was also surprisingly easy to talk to.

Dare and little Jean Junior - Jay for short - sat in the play pen making what looked like a huge tower out of blocks and stuffed animals. It was a precarious thing, but the three- and two-year-old boys were having a blast.

Charisa sipped her cup of coffee and watched them, smiling. "I think it's a good thing they don't have larger building materials," she chuckled. "Or they'd be out of that pen already."

Noelle chuckled. "Jay has already tried that. The other day, he stacked up every toy he could find in the corner and tried to climb up and over. It didn't work very well, once he climbed on, most of the toys crumbed and he was back to square one. I think he's enjoying himself now because he has a friend to play with."

"They do get along," Charisa agreed. "Of course, Dare seems to get along with just about everyone." He certainly liked all the kids in the Elric family, and anyone else he seemed to meet on the street. She could just imagine what Dare's social life would be like when he started actual school. "I guess it's a good thing Dare isn't really into climbing too."

"Oh you're so lucky!" Noelle said. "Jay is climbing most everything he can get his hands on. Yesterday I caught him climbing the shelves in the pantry. He told me he was hungry, so I couldn't blame him too much for climbing."

"Boys are always hungry," Charisa agreed with a chuckle, though she felt a little awkward. She was hardly the lucky one. Dare wasn't even hers. "Dare eats like Tore though," she added with a soft chuckle. Much as Tore wasn't particularly tall, he was still very lean given his work.

Noelle laughed, "If both of those boys eat like that now, you kind of fear for when they turn into ravenous teenagers!"

Charisa had tried not to think that far ahead.

"Nanty 'Risa!" Dare had stood up and was holding his arms out in her direction. "Out please! I need to go potty."

Charisa put down her coffee. "Of course," she said, going over and lifting him out.

Dare wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug as she set him down. "Thank you." Then he darted out of the room to find the bathroom.

Noelle watched Dare leave before smiling back to Charisa, "I hope you don't find this uncomfortable, but you two are so cute together."

Charisa opened her mouth, then closed it again when she realized she meant Dare... not Tore. "He's a sweet little boy," she replied.

"He's a doll!" Noelle agreed. She took a sip of coffee before fidgeting a little. "You know, you and Tore would make a cute couple too." Then she blushed to her hairline, "Oh gosh, that was terribly insensitive of me to say, I'm so sorry!"

Charisa had to bite her tongue to stop the whip-lash fast reaction that came to her lips. Yelling at Tore's friends wasn't the best way to stay on good terms, and she liked Noelle... apparently her honesty extended to everything. Instead, she took a breath and did her best to hide her reaction. "It's okay. You wouldn't be the first person to say that."

"Gosh, I'm such an idiot," Noelle grimaced. "I really didn't mean to blurt that, that's really none of my business."

"Really, it's fine." Charisa would just rather they not talk about it and move on to another conversation topic. "We've been friends forever." She sipped her coffee again. "So," she abruptly changed the topic. She doubted Noelle would mind. "Are you and Jean thinking of having any more kids?"

"We've talked about having a second, but I'd rather wait until Jay is closer to being out of diapers," Noelle smiled at the two year old who was still playing contentedly in the play pen.

"Can't blame you," Charisa chuckled. "Tore practically did a dance when Dare potty trained."

"I'd dance too if Jay was potty trained," Noelle laughed. She looked at her cup, "Did you need a refill? Or we have other beverages too, you don't have to be stuck with coffee. Honestly, I'm not all that crazy about coffee, but it's nice to give yourself a boost through the day."

"Oh, I'm fine," Charisa smiled. She still had a few sips left, and she didn't really need more. "Thanks though. It's much better than the sludge in the office. Though it does keep us awake when the Assemblymen decide to work late."

Noelle smiled softly, "I've heard the military coffee is bad from more than one source. You'd think the people at the office would learn to make a good pot of coffee. Or assign someone who's actually good at the job!"

"But if it was good, they'd drink even more of it," Charisa pointed out. "I don't think I want to see how jittery the boys would be if they liked the coffee."

"Ooo, good point!" Noelle said. "So it's all part of the commanding officer's plans to have bad coffee to promote more productivity!" She stopped her talk suddenly. "Am I boring you? I'm totally nervous about trying to say the right thing and Tore insisted that it was ok for us to meet and everything, I just don't want to botch everything further than I already have."

Tore said... Charisa paused. "It's fine, really. I'm glad you invited me over. I haven't gotten out much lately," she admitted. "I'd rather you be yourself than not." It was tough enough finding places where you could just be yourself these days.

Noelle grinned, "Everyone seems to tell me that. But the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, so if I ask something that's completely out of line, tell me and I won't take offense, all right?"

"If you won't take offense if I say something, or...ask something... that might be out of line," Charisa agreed.

"I've been asked embarrassing questions in my line of work more times than I care to remember, so I don't think there's too much you could say that would offend me," Noelle laughed.

"Then...can I ask just one?" Charisa asked. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe she wasn't sure she trusted all of the truth of the matter.

"Only if I get the same favor in return," Noelle said, settling back into her seat. "I hear rumors all the time, but rumors usually just twist the truth in ways you don't expect."

That was certainly true. "Fair trade," Charisa agreed. Okay... here it went. "All I was wondering," she said softly. "Was how close you and Tore... used to be."

"I knew that one was coming," Noelle grimaced a little. She took a deep breath, "I thought he was going to be a little more serious, or at least longer than the two weeks we had up north. So I probably did something a little more impulsive than I should have."

Charisa didn't even have to ask. She had guessed from Tore's rather evasive 'we were involved' that it had probably been more of a fling than anything else. It was only the fact that they were clearly still friends, and only friends, that made her think that it had been more than that. "I see."

Noelle cocked her head, "Are you interested? In dating Tore? Because I can't think of any other reason why asking that would be important to you." She stopped herself, "And here I go again, trying to put my foot in my mouth. The point is that Tore helped me through a rough patch. I wish I hadn't been so impulsive, but what's past is past."

Charisa blanched. "I... I don't know," she admitted, feeling foolish. "He's... one of my best friends. I care about him, and he's been through a lot the last few years. He's not the boy I became friends with, and while we are, again, good friends. I'm just trying to understand who he's become." She felt her color coming back as she said things she hadn't even really put together until that moment. "If you'll forgive me... you're sort of unique. Tore almost never regularly talks to - or about, at least to me - past girlfriends. The fact that you two are still friends and he speaks highly of you... makes you sort of unique." And what about Noelle, who he clearly got on well with, had let him stumble into a relationship with a woman like Cecilia instead?

"That makes us both rather unique," Noelle agreed. "I haven't spoken to any of my past boyfriends either, then again, they were such jerks about everything that I wouldn't have even wanted to speak to them again anyway."

Charisa wasn't sure what to say to that. "I know that feeling," she replied after an awkward silence.

Noelle nodded, "So, let's try a lighter subject: Know any good dessert recipes? I'm always on the lookout for new ones for the boys. I can't seem to keep them in the house, they keep disappearing on me."

Charisa laughed, hoping she didn't sound slightly hysterical, just amused. Changing the subject sounded like a very good idea. "I do know a few, but are the recipes disappearing or just the food?" she asked.

"Oh goodness," Noelle joined in the laughter. "I didn't even think… the food is disappearing! I don't think Jean or Jay is really into the taste of paper."

"You never know with little boys," Charisa pointed out. "I'll have to dig up some of Mom's recipes for you. I'm sure you'll all enjoy them as much as we do." Niam certainly always had. So had her father... probably too much. "I know Tore and Dare like them."

"That's enough of a recommendation for me," Noelle grinned.

Charisa chuckled. "I'm glad. Though I should warn you, those boys will eat just about anything."


	4. Chapter 4

**February 4****th****, 1970**

It started as a tight, unpleasant feeling in the chest that plagued Breda throughout the morning. Not long after it was accompanied by coughing; nothing but a chest cold, surely. He ignored it, at least until the pain started. A gradually growing pain that continued to worsen in the center mass area. Or so it seemed. It wasn't until the pain became bad enough to be a distraction that Breda began to be concerned. It wasn't a big deal; just a cold or something…maybe a pulled muscle from all the coughing.

Or so he told himself until the nausea hit. What was going on? Stalwart as he usually was, Breda began to feel a niggling of fear. He knew it wasn't a heart attack; he knew what those were supposed to be like and this wasn't it… but if so, he had no idea what the pain in his middle was.

It had to be the middle of a cold snap; knees uncooperative, and even his old hip injury complaining, Breda caved… and called Charisa.

His daughter was tight-lipped with concern as she helped him into the car and drove – not quite speeding – over to Central Hospital, where they were met almost at once by a nurse and shown upstairs to the doctor's office.

Breda suffered through the process with his usual gruff lack of complaint. It never did any good and they got done faster… and they really worked him over. It wasn't a basic check-up, but a complete physical. _And here I thought I was done with this rigmarole._

Then they left him, sitting half-naked on an examination table, while they ran tests. Charisa waited in the lounge outside, thankfully. Breda took the time to finish re-dressing while he waited for the doctor, and just hoped it wasn't anything serious.

Doctor Hines eventually returned, and sat down in the chair across from Breda. He didn't look pleased.

"Well?" Breda asked.

"Well where would you like me to start?" Hines replied, then didn't wait for an answer. "First, you'll be glad to know that the tightness and congestion in your chest is just a nasty chest cold. Miserable, but very treatable."

Thank goodness. "What about the pain?"

Hines' frown twitched. "It seems you have an abdominal hernia. Judging from the pain, I'd say it's already incarcerated."

A hernia. Fantastic. "And just what does that mean?" It couldn't be good.

"It means we'll have to operate and remove it," said Hines.

This was really not his day. "You look like there's more you want to say, Doc."

"Oh there's plenty." Hines flipped over a chart. "It's been too long, obviously, since your last physical, and the differences are, frankly, worrying. Your knees are fairly well worn out; the left one I'd go so far as to say is pretty shot. The kneecap is so bad it really ought to be replaced."

"Replaced?" They could do that?

"With metal and pins," Hines replied. "It's not wired or complex, but it's rather a simplified form of internal auto-mail I guess you could call it. It's something we've been working on in conjunction with Rockbell Auto-mail and the Doctors Elric."

So that was two major surgeries on the list. "Just tell me my hip isn't gone again."

"Not yet," Hines replied, thin-lipped. "But it's under heavy strain, and no wonder. You've put on a rather alarming amount of weight in the past couple of years."

And there it was…. What his doctors always loved to harp on most. "I've been heavier."

Hines frowned. "And more active. Your muscle mass doesn't account for it, I assure you." He flipped the next page on his clipboard. "It's not the only number that concerns me; cholesterol, blood sugar, sodium, blood pressure… nothing is what it ought to be, or anywhere near your last recorded numbers."

Breda missed the old days. Back then, they'd told him 'you're fat, lose weight,' and left it at that. Now they had all these other measurements to tell a man just how unhealthy he was. It was like they kept inventing new ways to make someone miserable. "So what, is this another one of those 'go on a diet' speeches?"

"Not quite." Hines pulled off the sheet he was looking at and handed it over. "At this point, dieting won't solve all your problems, just some of them. And this isn't a suggestion, it's an order."

"I'm retired. I don't take orders." Breda snorted as he took the sheet and looked down at it. Underneath the pile of numbers and terms he didn't fully comprehend the meaning of – medicine had never been something he cared to research – there was a rather thick block of instructions. It didn't take him more than a couple of lines to blanch. _Low fat, low sodium, low cholesterol, nothing fried, little to no sugar, no alcohol…. _It got into specific foods that qualified on a 'forbidden' list, and more in regards to safe exercises that could be done without straining his knees or hip to a breaking point. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Oh I'm not," Hines replied. "I'm about one sentence away from forcing you to talk to a psychological counselor, Heymans." The expression in his unwrinkled face softened, just a little. "I know losing your wife was hard for you. Losing loved ones is never easy, but I'm concerned that the primary cause of a lot of this is mental anguish that hasn't been dealt with. It's not uncommon in people your age, especially not after the loss of a spouse."

Men of his age… as if Breda needed the reminder. "And if I don't want to do it?"

"You still need two surgeries," Hines replied, "And right now you're not in the best shape for it. Though we really shouldn't wait on the hernia."

Breda had a sinking feeling. "I'm not going to get to go home am I?"

"You really shouldn't," Hines shook his head. "We'll see about checking you in and getting you a room. I should be able to schedule the surgery quickly. You'll get plenty of rest here, and we'll get you treated with antibiotics so we can take care of that chest cold. The less we have to deal with, the simpler getting you put back together will be. And if you really want to argue with me, I'll just hand all that information there right over to your daughter outside."

Breda blanched. As soon as Charisa saw and heard all this, she was going to freak out.

He wasn't wrong, though she waited until he was checked into a private room, tucked into a bed, dosed with medicines and a mild painkiller to take the edge of the agony of his joints and the herniated bit of his stomach cut off from the rest through the abdominal wall.

"This is… disgusting!" Charisa exclaimed as she looked at the information Breda had let the doctor give her. After all, she'd only have badgered _him_ about it until he caved anyway. "I've never seen anything like these numbers, Dad!"

"Well until today, I didn't have any idea they had that many," Breda grumbled.

Charisa shook her head. "You should be grateful they do, and you're going to follow this, every word." She gestured with the paper in question.

"And how do you intend to make me do that?" he replied. He was tired, and sick, and he just wanted sleep.

"Simple," Charisa replied, folding the sheets and tucking them into her pocket. "I'll just move back into the house."

"You'll _what?"_

"You're going to need a lot of care and tending for a while, Dad," Charisa replied, a bit more reasonably now. "Especially after surgery. And you're going to need someone who knows how to cook meals that will meet these restrictions."

So much for anything with flavor. "What about your place?"

"It's empty, and I've been thinking about selling it anyway," Charisa replied with a too-casual shrug. "It's bigger than I need and a waste of money. So unless you're going to tell me I'm not welcome in my own family home, I'll just move back into my old bedroom."

How could he argue with that? Of course he wanted her around… even if she was going to get on his case for the rest of his life. "Of course you can stay," Breda replied. "Now can you stop badgering me for a while? The painkillers are working and I'd like to get some sleep."

Charisa's expression turned to a slightly sad, sympathetic smile. "Sure, Daddy. Sleep well."

He doubted that last part, but seeing Charisa smile was worth it.

**February 6****th****, 1970**

"Good job!" Tore grinned and clapped – glad no one was there to see the goofy smile – as Dare came out of the bathroom, and waved his hands in the air.

"I did it by myself, Daddy! I even washed!" His damp hands were evidence of that, though Tore had watched the whole process. Dare was almost three and a half. Tore was just grateful that potty-training hadn't been nearly as traumatic as so many horror stories claimed. Now he was getting the hang of pulling his underwear and pants back up – easier in his pajamas, like now – and washing his hands by himself.

"Yes you did." Tore hugged him. "Now go pick a story and we'll read it before bed." He straightened up as Dare scampered into the bedroom. As he did so, the phone started ringing. Tore walked the couple of feet to the phone and picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi," Charisa's voice came over the line. "I know this is kind of short notice, but could I ask a favor?"

Well it wasn't all that late. "Sure. What is it?" Tore suspected it probably had to do with General Breda, who he knew was currently in the hospital.

"Could you come over tomorrow and help me with some work around the house? Dad's house I mean," Charisa amended, sounding a bit frazzled. "Niam and Denise were helping me tonight, but they have things to do tomorrow, and there's still a lot of work I need to do to get the place ready for when Dad comes home."

It was a good thing he and Dare hadn't made plans yet. "Yeah, I can come over," he promised. "Whatever you need, consider it done." He was sure he could find someone to watch Dare for a few hours. He'd call around to the various Elric-and-related homes and see who wasn't busy tomorrow.

"Oh thank you!" She replied with obvious relief.

Tore smiled. "How's your Dad doing?"

"Not bad considering," said Charisa. "They did the surgery this afternoon, and they said it went well and he can go home in a couple of days. They just want to keep him for observation and to keep treating his chest cold, which is also sounding a lot better."

At the General's age, they really couldn't be too careful, Tore supposed. "I'm glad to hear it. I'll be over bright and early as soon as I drop Dare off wherever he'll be playing. Don't worry."

"Oh I won't…at least, not about you making it." Charisa chuckled slightly. "Thanks, Tore."

"You're welcome. See you in the morning." Tore hung up the phone and looked down to find that Dare was holding up one of his favorite books.  
>"Story time!" Dare grinned.<p>

"Yes it is," Tore took the book. He'd make his phone calls after he got Dare into bed.

**February 7****th****, 1970**

Tore looked at Charisa's To Do list and shook his head. She really hadn't been kidding about a lot of work! And this was after Niam and Denise had been over helping pick up the general clutter. Not that it was utterly pitted out, but the house definitely showed some signs of neglect, mostly in the way of dusting and scrubbing and minor repairs. The only room that was really bad was the kitchen.

"I really feel guilty for not coming over more often." Charisa sighed as they surveyed the damage and sipped from early morning cups of coffee. "I feel like I should have noticed."

Tore was glad Dare was with Cal and Alyse today. He would have been very underfoot. "Well you and Niam both missed it, and so did most of his friends apparently, so don't feel too bad. And you said he kept telling you he had plans or not to worry about coming over all the time right?" Though now it seemed like a ploy on Breda's part to just be left alone to wallow in his own misery. Letting him have his privacy had obviously not been a good thing.

"Well…that's true." Charisa still looked doubtful.

"Look, it's over and done," Tore placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get this place back in shape and move forward, okay?"

Charisa looked up at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled. "You're right, let's go."

It was a long day, despite the optimism Tore did his best to instill in Charisa. In his mind, this was a turn for the better. Now that the General's problems were out in the light of day – so to speak – no one would leave him alone again. With Charisa moving back in especially, he'd be well taken care of.

Not that Tore got to talk to Charisa much. There was too much to do. While she tossed old take-out trash and scrubbed dishes in the kitchen, Tore was put to work on all the things around the house that should have been taken care of in the past year and a half. If Breda hadn't had a lawn service, Tore didn't want to think what the yards would have looked like!

He fixed two leaky faucets, a loose board on the stairs, re-caulked the downstairs bathtub, replaced half a dozen light bulbs, and fixed the loose wiring on the switch to the porch light. Only then did Charisa rope him into the scrubbing side of things. Every bathroom got scoured, and every floor vacuumed, or swept and mopped. Tore was lucky, he supposed, that Charisa hadn't found a waxing machine to make him do that too. Furniture got vacuumed, and curtains run through the laundry. There was a lot of settled dust that just needed to be removed.

Tore had to admit the place smelled less musty and much better even by midday. He was grateful when Charisa let them stop for lunch. "What's left?" he asked as they munched on sandwiches from the nearest deli. There was almost nothing to eat in the house – ironically. At least, nothing that made for a quick or particularly appetizing meal.

"Rearranging mostly," Charisa admitted. "I want to get the furniture in the downstairs guest room arranged to make it easier for Dad to move around. He won't need to worry about going upstairs that way. I want to get anything he'll want or need moved downstairs into that room as well; his favorite books, clothing, and the like." She ticked off the list mentally. "After that, I can see about moving in my things."

"How's packing going over at your place?" Tore asked, ready to offer to help with that too if necessary.

"Oh, not bad," Charisa smiled. "For the moment most of it's going into storage. All I'm moving back here are my personal things and anything I need for work."

No need to bring over furniture or house-wares, Tore supposed. "You need help with any of that?"

"Not until the apartment sells," Charisa admitted. "Most of my things are in the back of Dad's car already. The rest I figured could wait until I had to move it."

It made sense. There were certainly more important priorities at the moment. "Well you make sure to call me if you need me okay?"

"Don't I already?" Charisa turned her head, smiling more than he'd seen in days. Then her cheeks flushed slightly and she looked away. "I mean, I'm glad I can count on you. You're a good friend."

_Good friend, right._ Not that Tore wasn't grateful. But the look in her eyes…why couldn't she look at him like that more often? Tore smiled back. "And I hope you always will call," he replied. "So, let's get this done and impress your old man, okay?"

"Sure." Charisa finished the last bite of her sandwich, looking more upbeat than she had all day.

**February 9****th****, 1970**

"So what do you think?" Charisa asked her father hopefully as she finished the 'tour' of the cleaning and rearranging of the house. She hadn't been sure how he would take it, but it had needed doing. Now he could rest and heal in a clean, comfortable environment.

Sitting in the wheelchair temporarily on loan to them from the hospital, her father shrugged. Then he seemed to reconsider. "Looks good," he replied. "You've been busy."

"I had a lot of help," Charisa reminded him. "Thanks. So, do you want to rest first, or do you want lunch?" She had prepared that before leaving to pick him up.

Despite his recent pains from surgery and lingering cold, her father perked up. "Lunch."

Charisa wheeled him into the kitchen and set him up at one side of the breakfast table. No reason to use the formal dining room for just two of them. It only took a few minutes to reheat the chicken, vegetables, and whole grain bread. "Enjoy," she set the plate in front of him.

His reaction was about what she had expected. A momentary look of disappointment before the, "Thank you. It looks delicious." He had never disliked anything she cooked, and Charisa's own portion was almost identical. That, she was sure, was the cause of disappointment; Exacting proportions, lean meat and not much of it; and everything seasoned but without salt, or butter.

"You're welcome." Charisa sat down across from him and began to eat. It wasn't all that different from the meals she cooked for herself on a regular basis. Though she fairly well had her father's dietary requirements memorized, and the kitchen stocked only with things she could feed him as well. It wasn't like there wasn't salt or butter in the house; it was just in small quantities, and up out of his reach for the moment. She felt an odd twinge of guilt for that too.

Breda finished first, with a fleetingly hopefully look that said he hoped that wasn't everything. Charisa felt another one of those unhappy moments. He wasn't going to like her for any of this. "There are more vegetables if you want them," she offered. No, she hadn't made a dessert.

"Sure." Which meant, she could tell, that he'd take what he could get.

Charisa got him seconds, then screwed up her nerves, and looked her father in the face. "Daddy I… I don't want this to be awkward. I just want to make sure you're taken care of."

Breda looked up at her over his food, with a look that made her wonder if he thought she was a little nuts. "Is this awkward?" he asked softly.

Great, she felt like she had put her foot in it now. "No, I… well I guess it is since I've made it that way," Charisa sighed. "There's something I should tell you."

Her father took on a knowing look. "You moved back in here because you didn't want me to have to live somewhere else."

Of course he had known. Charisa had spoken with the doctor a couple of times, but surely it was no secret then that they both knew that if her father couldn't live independently, he would have to live in a facility where he could get proper care. The idea of her father in one of those places – however nice – was not something Charisa wanted to face. Nor did it seem like a good fit. "That's true," she replied, relieved that he wasn't upset that she knew. "Niam and I don't want to see you have to live like that." And she would do whatever it took to make that happen, even if that included things her father didn't particularly like.

Breda smiled. "Well, it's nice to know my kids aren't tired of me yet."

"Of course not," Charisa replied fervently. No matter how frustrating he could be, he was family, and they loved him.

**February 13****th****, 1970**

Breda was tired; not sleepy really, but a deep, bone tired that told him he was still recovering strength after both the nasty virus that had plagued him, and the abdominal surgery that had fixed his stomach hernia. The discomfort was minimal now, fortunately, though he still spent a lot of his time lying in bed or sitting on the couch if he made it into the living room across the hallway.

He could get up and move now, and he walked with a cane – better than that blasted chair – when he could get away with it, but as bad as his knees had gotten, their aching in the wet weather made him disinclined to argue with them much. He hoped the surgery that had been proposed to replace one knee would be as successful as he had been assured it ought to. Having at least one good knee again would be a relief.

But that was what had him laid up this afternoon, not even willing to make the trek to the television to relieve his growing boredom. Two paperback books lay finished on his bedside table next to an empty water pitcher and a plate with only crumbs of his leftover sandwich from lunch. Charisa should be back soon from work, and then he could ask her to get him something else to read.

As if in answer to his thoughts, he heard keys in the outside lock, and the door opened and closed. There was no immediate greeting, but he hadn't really expected one.

The bedroom door creaked open, and his eyes flicked in that direction. He heard footprints, but saw nothing. _Great, now I'm hallucinating from boredom_

"Hi!" A small face popped up over the edge of the bed, brown eyes bright under a mop of brown curly hair.

Breda twitched – in lieu of jumping – before he recognized Closson's son. "What are you doing here, kiddo?" he asked.

"We came to play," Dare giggled.

It was then that Tore stuck his face in the room. "Afternoon, Sir. Sorry for the intrusion. Charisa told me she had to stay late for a meeting with the Assemblyman and asked me to come by until she could get here."

So his daughter had arranged for a babysitter. Well, given how he had just been griping about boredom – not to mention hunger – Breda couldn't really complain. Though her choice of sitter… well maybe that shouldn't surprise him after all. "Well you have good timing," he replied gruffly.

"I'm bored stiff, hungry, thirsty," and sitting up was far harder than he liked to bother without help…not that he liked admitting he needed it.

Tore grinned. "I think we can fix all that."

"We can read a story," Dare grinned, pulling out a children's book from inside his coat.

Breda refused to groan as he forced himself upright, ignoring the popping in various joints. He also choice to ignore Tore's hand on his back, assisting him the last several inches.

"Don't worry," Tore replied with a more conspiratorial expression. "If bunnies aren't your thing, I brought a deck of cards."

At that, Breda chuckled. "Good thinking."


	5. Chapter 5

**March 6****th****, 1970**

"What's this?" Breda looked at the bottle as Tore sat down across the coffee table from him in a chair he'd pulled up. It looked like beer; but he doubted Tore would risk Charisa's wrath bringing that over here for him.

Tore grinned as he shuffled the cards for one of their now-regular games of poker. "Non-alcoholic diet beer."

"They make that?" Breda stared at the bottle with a mix of horror and fascination. "Does it taste any good?"

"No idea," Tore admitted, popping the top on his own drink –root beer. "Never had it."

"If I die of poisoning, tell Charisa it's all your fault." Breda opened the bottle, sniffed, and took a reluctant sip. He'd try it at this point. He supposed he should just be grateful the knee surgery had gone well. He might actually be mobile again soon.

"How is it?" Tore asked curiously as he dealt the cards. In one corner of the room, Dare sat quietly, grinning at one of a stack of picture books he had brought to occupy himself.

Breda swallowed, and grimaced. "Potable, but I won't say much for the taste." It was… sort of like beer, but not nearly as satisfying. He took another sip anyway. It was mildly better than water.

"Sorry, best I could do." Tore looked sympathetic.

They settled into the card game then. Three hands later Breda was winning two to one. As they began the fourth, he asked a question that had been puzzling him for the past several visits. "So, why do you keep coming over here?"

Tore grinned over his cards. "I'm not allowed to worry about and respect a superior officer?"

"I'm retired."

He shrugged and discarded and replaced two cards. "You're still someone I respect, Sir, and – if you'll forgive the impudence or not – sometimes I get the feeling maybe we have more in common than I knew."

Now that was interesting. Breda discarded one. "And just what's that?"

Tore sipped his drink. "We're both stubborn asses who know how to make women cry."

"I'm not sure I like that comparison." Breda bristled a little. What was he talking about?

Tore lowered his cards enough to be visible over them. "Well don't expect an apology. You're breaking your daughter's heart."

He… what? "What do you mean?"

"I mean she's on the verge of a breakdown and all you're doing is making it worse." He snapped, then winced as if he hadn't meant it quite that harshly.

Breda frowned. "How is this my fault?" He felt guilty for her taking care of him as much as she had to, but he didn't see that she really minded much.

The boy wasn't done. "Your daughter just ended a marriage she found out was doomed from the start because the guy was a lying, cheating asshole; during which her _mother_ died – her second one in one lifetime – and now she's terrified of losing you too. Can't you see it? She needs someone who needs her; she came over to see me so often when I was being treated and recovering, even though she didn't need to. Now she's putting every spare moment she has into putting you back together. If you kicked it… what do you think that would do to her?"

Breda winced. When he put it like that, it sounded even more unfair than Breda thought it was. "Wouldn't it be better if she didn't have to worry about me anymore?"

"Not a bit," Tore replied flatly, looking even angrier. "She needs someone who needs her, as she is, with everything she has to offer. You're her father; she adores you and you're the only parent she's got. She's already lost three."

The last was a reminder Breda would have preferred not to have. However much it was a long ago part of the past, he knew Charisa knew, even if she no longer remembered much of it, that she had lost parents she loved before. Nancy's death had hurt them all, but his daughter seemed determined to fill her spot in the only ways she knew how.

The look in Tore's eyes though – the passion in his argument – were not just those of an angry friend. For lack of a better answer, Breda changed the subject. "How long have you been in love with my daughter?"

* * *

><p>Tore looked at him for a minute, trying to get over being slightly stunned by the unexpected question. "Almost as long as I've known her," he said eventually. "I mean, I don't remember when, but I had a crush on her from the day we met. She was my first real friend, and she's still one of my two closest."<p>

"You only have two?"

Tore took no offense. "The Elrics are family," he pointed out. "I guess, I realized it after I got back from my… trip, and she'd already gone on to someone else. I mean, I was always attracted to her but then… it was too late. She didn't trust me anymore. Then we started getting along again, but after the war I'm pretty sure she almost hated me."

"And how do you feel about her now?" He couldn't read the General's face, but then, that was probably on purpose. Did Breda approve? Did he still hold a grudge against Tore?

Well the truth was the truth. "I'd rather die than see her get hurt again."

"That's not what I asked."

Tore contemplated not answering, but it occurred to him that, really, Breda wasn't likely to tell Charisa anything Tore said. Not like Charisa would listen to him anyway. "I've never cared so deeply for any woman. My feelings haven't changed. Every woman I meet I find myself comparing to Charisa… and they always fall short. She's still the best thing in my life aside from my son. It's not just friendship, or attraction, or lust, or romance… it's something beyond that."

Breda looked momentarily stunned, though the look vanished quickly. "She's completely got you, hasn't she? You know what, stop with this submissive crap and be honest and tell her. Charisa always preferred things that way."

That was not the answer Tore had been expecting. "She turned me down… repeatedly. I don't want to make her feel bad by bringing it up again."

Breda scowled. "You're just afraid of getting burned."

His temper flashed. "I'm not a coward."

"Then stop acting like one."

Dare's looking up at them was the only thing that kept Tore from raising his voice. Really, he was shocked more than angry. "Are you _telling _me I should go after your daughter?"

"You're no worse a man for her than I was for Nancy," Breda grumbled and sipped his not-quite-beer. "If we're being brutally honest today, I think you're no better than that bastard Cretan if you don't."

Wow. "So, just to get this right…. You don't hold some kind of grudge against me?" Tore knew it would never have affected their professional relationship, but that didn't mean that he couldn't still dislike Tore as Charisa's father.

Breda blinked, apparently caught off guard. "Heck, no. Running off was pretty stupid, but you weren't any dumber than a few... hundred, maybe thousand… soldiers I know. A drink at a party is hardly something to hold against a guy his whole life." From the look on his face, Tore got the distinct notion that –how he'd always thought– Breda would have been awfully hypocritical to do so. So would most of his friends.

"Tell that to your daughter," Tore suggested, but without any malice. "She has –or at least, she had– this strange idea that you and your colleagues were saints of some kind."

Breda almost choked on his drink. "I wonder where she got that idea."

Good answer. Tore chuckled. "A daughter's love, I'm sure," he replied, glad he seemed to have gotten the conversation turned back away from his romantic interest in Charisa.

Or maybe not. Breda sobered quickly. "She's got quite the capacity for love. So, what would _you_ suggest I do to make her feel better?"

Now there was a turn he hadn't expected. Tore looked back down at his cards. "Be more cooperative," he said. He didn't even have to think about it. "Don't gripe so much when all she's asking you to do is follow doctor's orders. Try harder. Look, I know you aren't exactly mobile, but I know there are a couple of weights in your basement. I saw them when we were cleaning." Even light real exercise would make Breda feel better, and Tore had the feeling he knew the General still knew that as well as he did. "Let her feel appreciated, like you're happy she's helping you out, not just being depressed because you need it."

This was how he had learned to be when she helped him out too. Charisa had a surprisingly deep need to feel like she was _needed_ for something, and by the people she cared about.

"Somehow I knew you were going to say something like that." Breda discarded one more card then laid them down. "Two pair. What have you got?"

Tore did the same. "Full house."

**March 7****th****, 1970**

If Sara had to watch her students pretend they wouldn't rather be elsewhere that afternoon for much longer, she had a feeling it was going to drive her crazy. Not because she minded that Trisha and Roy were dating, but because they were perfectly capable of holding a horribly flirtatious conversation over their alchemy lesson and still not miss a single detail, ingredient, or transmutation.

"Should I just set you two to sparring?" she finally asked in exasperation.

That got the blushing –from them both– that Sara had rather been hoping for. "We're paying attention," Trisha objected.

"You're also about to make me die from sugar overload," Sara smirked. "You've done everything right, why don't you go somewhere else so I don't have to feel like I'm watching a bad romance for a while."

Trisha grinned impishly at her. "You mean you'd rather we had bad romance in private?"

"I'd rather you both continue to show maturity and common sense," Sara countered. "But you can certainly do that somewhere other than during alchemy practice."

"Don't argue with her!" Roy laughed. "Thanks, Mrs. H." He never called her Colonel, though Sara knew that was just to keep from confusing her and Franz in their own home. "Come on," he snagged Trisha's hand and half-dragged her out of her seat. "We've got time to call Carol and Mike and see if they want to hang out."

"All right!" Trisha laughed, pulling her arm free. "Let me change into something warmer and we'll go, okay?"

Sara watched them go, just grateful that both of them seemed to have retained their sensibility despite their new relationship status. Not that she hadn't sort of suspected it might happen for a couple of years. She'd done her best to stay out of it though. Roy was much more stable and sure of himself than his father, and she had to admit that Roy and Trisha were a better match than she and Maes would _ever_ have been. Even if it didn't work out, they'd almost certainly stay friends.

"Done in here already?" Franz stuck his head in from the living room, glasses half-way down his nose.

"I couldn't take the sugar," Sara chuckled. "So I ordered it out of the kitchen."

"What a shame." Franz entered and wrapped his arms around her waist. "And here I was hoping to find something sweet in the kitchen. Though you definitely missed some sugar, cause you're right here."

Sara felt her neck grow warm as he kissed it.

"Ewww Dad!" James' voice came from the other room.

Sara peeked over her shoulder to where their nine-year-old son was sitting within view of the room. Thank goodness he wasn't anywhere close to dating age. One at a time. "So what were you two working on?" she asked curiously.

"A model train." James grinned, gesturing to the half-painted engine on the table. "You want to help, Mom?"

"Sure," she slipped out of Franz's arms just enough to turn and join him as they went back to the living room. A model train definitely sounded like fun. "What can I do?"

"Well, Dad and I got the engine, and two cars, and a caboose put together," James explained each one as he pointed to them. "And we got the base colors on. Now they're dry and we're starting on the details. These are the designs." He held up a piece of paper where lettering and colored details were drawn to almost schematic precision. "So you can help paint."

"I'm impressed," Sara admitted, smiling. She didn't really find time to do crafts much anymore. "Give me a brush and let's get to it."

**March 19****th****, 1970**

"So what should we do for dinner?" Tore asked Charisa as they sat on the couch in his living area. It was a rare night lately that left neither of them taking care of the General, and with time to just hang out together, alone. Since it was a Friday night, Dare had been allowed to sleep over at Ethan's and play with Eamon and Lily. Niam and Denise were spending the evening with Breda. Given a free Friday, Tore definitely didn't want to spend it bored! "We could go out somewhere," he smiled. "Get something forbidden." He'd eaten over with her at Breda's enough lately, after those afternoon poker games, that he wasn't really worried about not eating healthy enough.

Charisa chuckled, a sound that came from her more often lately too; and for that Tore was grateful. She was actually leaning against his shoulder, his arm resting lightly across her shoulders. He didn't dare give it more of a squeeze than that. A friendly, casual hug…. "I doubt it would hurt you," she pointed out, one finger poking him in the side. It connected with nothing but muscle.

"Nice to know I have permission," Tore grinned. "Or are you just worried I'll waste away to nothing?" Frankly, he thought that more likely to happen to _her._ When Charisa was stressed out, she tended to lose her appetite. It was something he had always noted. Not something she did consciously, but it was no wonder she never seemed to have any problems in that department herself.

To his surprise, her finger slid across his torso, and the poke turned into a hug.

Maybe that wasn't too far from the truth? Or not. Tore looked down at her. Charisa wasn't looking up at him, but her cheeks looked slightly flushed. Maybe his teasing had embarrassed her.

Then she looked up at him. "What would you do if I wanted to sleep with you tonight, one night, no strings attached?"

It had to be a test. Or his ears were going! Charisa in his arms, her chest... abundantly clear and tightly pressed against him. Tore's body warmed from nose to…other areas. "What?" Had he even heard that right?

Charisa's expression was unreadable, but it made it plain he hadn't misheard.

"I couldn't." Tore could have kicked himself for his honesty. "There's no such thing as no strings attached with you, Charisa. They're already on me. You turned me down, and I deserved it. We have friendship, history, and my son adores you. If I put what we have now on the line for a little gratification… I'd hate myself." No matter how many times in his life he had dreamed of taking Charisa in his arms, and in his bed, and his body ached to do just what she suggested. There was no way she meant it. It was a question – rhetorical – nothing more. And…she probably thought he was babbling like an idiot.

To his surprise, her hug tightened and she rested her head against his chest, a tear ran down her cheek. "That's the answer I hoped for."

"Can I ask why?" he commented gently.

"Because that's the Tore I know," she smiled. "I have to admit… I haven't been entirely honest either. I was ready to try again when you got back from the war but then we met up but you… you were so different. You'd promised me you wouldn't change, and I knew it was foolish to hope for, but there you were, this smoking, drinking, _womanizing_…." Her tone hardened. "I almost hated you! And me…for even thinking you could go off to a war and come back the same. But you were so crass and nonchalant about it all."

"I know," Tore replied, trying not to let the irritated flutters of guilt show in his voice. "I let you down."

"It goes both ways," Charisa sighed. "But I was so hurt, and worried, and you seemed so okay with the path you were on. We weren't the same at all. It was like you'd left me behind again… and all those women."

"Hey, I feel guilty enough here," Tore tried to sound light, but he suspected he failed.

"I'm sorry." Her grip never loosened. "I feel like such a loser."

"You are not a loser," Tore argued. He was feeling slightly back on firmer footing. He understood where she was coming from, even if he knew better. "Don't even think it! If anyone is, it's Raul for being idiot enough to not appreciate everything he was wasting by being a jerk. You're perfect just the way you are. Don't ever let that Cretan… _cretin_ make you feel otherwise."

"Perfect?" Charisa looked up at him. "You can't mean that."

"I do," Tore replied. "I like you the way you are; beautiful, intelligent, stubborn… opinionated, fire-tempered. You're also patient, kind, and giving. You're…well you're you, and I've always loved you that way."

Charisa stared up at him, almost as if she didn't dare believe him. Her hands closed on his sleeves. Words seemed to come to her lips, but die unsaid. Tore was about to ask what was on her mind when she told him – with her lips pressed tight against his.

Tore's arms tightened reflexively. He pulled her close, and kissed her, responding with an even amount of slow testing and following ardor that came as Charisa seemed to decide that kissing him was really what she wanted to do. It continued to deepen, and Tore lost himself in the sweet overwhelming sensation of the woman he loved… at least until she broke the kiss, and tugged at him, as if she wanted to lead him towards the bedroom. "Are you sure?" he stared at her, loosening his grip enough to let her stand.

Charisa didn't let go. "You don't want to?" Now there was real longing in her eyes. The question really hadn't been a hypothetical test (or trap)… not entirely.

_No, but I wish I didn't._ "Charisa I… I told you… I don't want to ruin what we have. I haven't had a lover… or even a real girlfriend… since I found out about Dare."

"And my only lover was a bastard who screwed me over the whole time we were married, cheated, and couldn't understand why I didn't think he was enough of a catch to overlook the whole thing," Charisa replied bitterly. "Do you really want to refuse? If you do, then I won't bring it up again." She looked away, clearly embarrassed.

How many times had he had dreams Charisa would have slapped him for that started not all that far from this position? Tore's whole body was wound tight. He forced himself not to breathe too fast. He ought to say no, they should wait, take it slow… but why? They were adults, she was willing, and neither of them was inexperienced. He loved her… he knew that. Did she love him? It was so strange to think of her half-seducing _him_. She had waited until she was married… he hadn't even tried. He came to his feet, despite himself. "It's just… we're not…"

"What do I need to be to you?" she asked softly. "Your girlfriend? Fiancée? Or have you given up on finding someone even after going through all of that suffering just to protect any children you might, potentially, have in the future?" Her hand left his sleeve, running lightly up his arm and then to the center of his chest. She didn't have to look up at him when they were standing like this. Their heights were too similar. Her big eyes bored right into him. "Not that I can complain really if your standards have improved," she sighed, smiling ironically. "I guess I just never thought I'd be the girl you'd turn down." Her hand dropped, and she took a step back, partially out of his arms.

"Wait!" Tore's hands tightened around her waist. He couldn't let go. He should but… Dare wasn't here tonight.

"All right," she paused, looking expectantly at him.

Tore swallowed. "I didn't… I didn't turn you down. Please… you have to know I want you more than anyone else in my life… and I don't just mean in bed. I love you, but I don't want to rush things and regret it later. I don't want_ you_ to regret it either."

Charisa looked disappointed, then resigned. She smiled sadly. "You had to go and grow up now. This is what I get for having wishes come true I guess." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "And I feel foolish. Even if you proposed right now… I wouldn't be ready for that. I've been married, and it wasn't at all what I wanted because he wasn't the man I thought he was."

"And what am I?" He had said he loved her, but Charisa hadn't reciprocated. Not yet.

Charisa bit her lip uneasily. "I think… you're who I know you are, and I know you're a good man, a wonderful friend, and none of the things I now despise. No I'm not ready to commit to anything, not forever, not with anyone, except that I know that you're still someone I can trust, that I feel strongly about… and who won't ever hurt me on purpose, even if the accidents have been pretty horrendous."

Tore couldn't argue with that. "So was that even a real offer, or just theoretical?"

He managed not to smile when Charisa's face blushed pink. There was his sweet, tough-but-good-girl. There was nothing of the law expert in that expression. "Did you mean it when you just said you love me?"

"Of course I did." If his throat tightened any more Tore wasn't going to be able to breathe.

Charisa stepped closer. "Then I meant it," she whispered, kissing him again. "I'm not asking for a ring, or permanence, but someone who understands me."

_The only reason you're not asking, 'Risa, is because we both got burned, and you're still afraid I'll turn into Raul Valentino and break your heart again. _Tore returned the kiss, tired of holding tight control over himself. It had been so long, and he was lonely too. Overwhelming longing, need, and even curiosity filled him, overflowed. Why hold back now? He loved her… why not take the risk when she was so sure it would make her happy? "I understand," he whispered, gently stepping in the direction she had pulled him earlier – towards his own bedroom. "Let me show you just how I feel."

* * *

><p>There was no way he was dreaming. Tore's dreams were never this good. In none of them had he really dared to realize his deepest desires, his fondest wishes. That, and being snuggled up in his bed with Charisa after an evening of amazingly satisfying sex that was better than anything he'd ever experienced in dreams… well he couldn't hallucinate this. Not the feel of her long, red curls tickling his chest, or her gentle breathing causing the subtle press and release of her breasts against his skin. She smelled like lilacs tonight… had to be the shampoo. It was too subtle to be perfume. She was too real.<p>

He kissed the top of her head, and caressed her left arm with his left hand, which was pinned underneath her shoulders. Tore was almost afraid to break the peace of the moment. More than two years of self-enforced celibacy had certainly not been wasted. Not if this was his reward.  
>Finally, she found something to say before he did. "Thank you," Charisa smiled up at him, with a contentedness that seemed to match his. Clearly she had needed it as much as he did; not just for the physical release, but for the reassurance that it wasn't some fault of hers in the department of loving that had been part of her ex-husband's infidelity. Or at least, that was Tore's guess.<p>

"You're welcome," he replied, smiling back. "You're always welcome." Though this leap of intimacy in their relationship was definitely going to change the dynamic of some of those visits… if it continued. He certainly wanted it to. He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the untimely complaints of his empty stomach. Dinner had been well forgotten.

Charisa chuckled. "Maybe we should finish our earlier conversation?"

Tore didn't argue. "Why don't you get comfortable and I'll whip something up?" He kissed her nose, taking advantage of the mood to enjoy what he could.

"I think… a shower would be lovely," Charisa agreed, sitting up as Tore got out of bed and dragged on shorts and an undershirt – to protect himself in the kitchen more than out of any feelings of modesty.

Tore had the brief thought of how nice it would be to join her in the shower first, but he was hungry enough now that it was almost painful, and he suspected she wasn't far from being almost as hungry.

In the name of expedience, Tore opted for food that wouldn't take long to cook, and by the time he heard the shower water turn off, he had managed to put together a meal of fresh salad, re-heated spaghetti and meat sauce that he and Dare had eaten the night before, and water for hot coffee or tea was whistling in the pot.

It was all on the table when Charisa came out of the bathroom wrapped – for lack of anything else – in Tore's bathrobe. _Damn… there's a sight I could get used to. _He'd had no idea the old, blue robe could look_ that_ good wrapped around a woman's curves. Of course, those weren't just _any_ woman's curves.

Charisa looked at the table, and smiled. "Do you always treat your conquests this well?" she teased.

Tore frowned. "That's not funny."

She immediately looked contrite. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive."

Tore sighed and shook his head. Of course she hadn't. He put the smile back on his face. "It's okay… but I think you got it backwards." Who had seduced who after all?

Charisa's fair cheeks flushed red. "You have a point." She came over and sat down in her usual chair. "Anyway, this looks great."

"Thanks." His mood restored, Tore sat down across from her, and the conversation dwindled off temporarily as they both renewed well-expended energy. When they were done, Tore insisted on clearing the table, and they cuddled up again on the couch with coffee and chocolate chip cookies. It was only then, his arm safely around her shoulders once more, that Tore made himself ask the inevitable question."So, where does this leave us?"

"I guess that depends on if we're ever going to do_ this_ again." Charisa gestured to his robe as an indicator of the entire evening.

"Didn't you enjoy it?" Tore asked. He had known this could be a onetime thing, but he really didn't want it to be.

Charisa snuggled against him. "I hope you don't mind the comparison… but you're a lot more fun than Raul."

"Well I do mind the comparison…but I don't mind the compliment." Tore kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I'd love to do this again. And again after that. Though I don't know how we'll manage things, I mean, most of the time Dare's home." And Dare still slept in Tore's room. It was the only bedroom they had.

"We'll manage," Charisa assured him then, confirming that she too wouldn't mind if this became a regular part of their relationship. "Obviously most couples figure it out."

Couples…. Tore's heart leapt. So they were a couple now, not just friends. "How do you figure that?"

"Look at the number of people you know with more than one kid," Charisa smiled.

"Your logic is flawless," Tore chuckled. "No wonder you're so good with law."

"Tell me that again if we can explain it when Dare figures out something's going on."

That was the other complicating factor. Tore knew, eventually, his little boy would pick up on the fact that things with Daddy and 'Aunt Charisa' weren't the same anymore. But would it be before this worked itself out or not? "I have no idea to explain this to a three year old."

"Right now, you don't have to," she replied simply. "As long as we don't do anything to confuse or hurt him, I suspect he'll be just as happy as ever. And the last thing I want to do is hurt him."

There was true fondness in that voice; Tore knew Dare was very attached to Charisa, but he had never really asked Charisa how she felt about Dare beyond the obvious enjoyment she got out of playing with the little boy and helping Tore out. "I'm glad," Tore kissed the top of her head. "He's very fond of you."

"Like father like son?" Charisa chuckled softly. "He's a wonderful little boy. So bright and friendly and precocious."

"So I'm precocious?" Tore asked half-joking.

Charisa laid her hand on his chest. Her cheeks flushed warmly. "Well… you're definitely not little."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note 719/2011:_ Finis! New story begins next week, even though I will be on a road trip to visit family (including my new baby nephew!).


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